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CAMP-FIRES 



THE EEYOLUTION: 



OR, TUE 



or of Inb'r|irnhnrr, 



ILLUSTRATED BY 



THRILLING EVENTS AND STORIES 



(Dill (CDntinrntfll InlHns. 
BY HENRY C. WATSON. 



WITH ORIGINAL ILLUSTRATIONS BY CROOME. 

PHILADELPHIA: 

LINDSAY AND BLAKISTON. 

1850. 






Entered, according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1850, by 

LINDSAY & BLAKISTON. 

in the Clerk's OtBce of the District Court of the United States for the 

Eastern District of Pennsylvania. 



STEREOTYPED BY J. F A S A N . 
PRINTED BY C. SHERMAN. 



PEEPACE. 



In presenting the " Camp-Fires of the Ke vo- 
lution" to the public, a few remarks may be 
necessary, or, at least, will not be mal a propos. 
The ''battles, sieges, fortunes," of the war in 
which American Independence was secured, may 
be found detailed in history, with all possible 
accuracy, and elaborate criticism. But the suf- 
ferings of the ill-furnished soldiers during the 
long and dreary winters of that period, and 
their means of whiling away the time when 
forced to gather around the camp-fire and watch 
when they had not the conveniences for sleep- 
ing, are not to be found on the dignified page of 
history. Yet are they worthy of being noted ; 
and, by the aid of the few remaining heroes of 
that terrible struggle, when '' Saxon met Saxon," 
— ^those few remaining links which chain us to 

the past, we may imagine the extent of their 

(iii) 



iv PREFACE. 

suffering, and the means they made use of to 
draw their attention from its severity. It is 
thought, a work upon the plan of the " Camp- 
Fires of the Kevolution," will bring the doings 
and the scenes of the " trying time" more vividly 
before the mind than the common history. Here 
we have the incidents of various battles, and the 
exploits of chieftains, told as if by eye-witnesses, 
and in the familiar, easily comprehended lan- 
guage of the farmer and mechanic soldiers of 
the American army. No later achievements of a 
more dazzling character should withdraw the 
admiration and the gratitude of the American 
people from those iron-nerved patriots who, desti- 
tute of most of the requisites of an army, con- 
quered only because they were determined to 
conpuer. Their history affords the brightest 
examples for the imitation of those who would 
be truly brave and patriotic. 



CONTENTS. 



The Camp-fire on Dorchester Heights . . . Page 13 

AT Cambridge 3T 

AT Mount Independence .... 52 

AT Long Island 76 

AT Skippack Creek 107 

AT Germantown 144 

AT Valley Forge 152 

AT Whitemarsh 165 

AT White Plains 181 

AT Saratoga 218 

AT MiDDLEBROOK 235 

AT MiDDLEBROOK (CONTINUED) . . . 251 

ON THE Susquehanna 268 

AT Springfield 291 



VI CONTENTS. 

The Camp-fire at Morristown 309 

" " ON THE Old Pedee 341 

" " IN the Swamp 356 

" " ON the Hills of Santee .... 382 
" " near Charleston 399 

The Officers' Carousal 430 



irist #?#^ 



Uiutratian^. 



GENERAL LAFAYETTE AND CHARLEY MORGAN . . . Frontispiece. 
THE EVENING AFTER THE BATTLE OF TRENTON . . Title-Page. 
THE EVENING BEFORE THE BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL . Page 41 

THE SENTINEL 76 

GENERAL PUTNAM AND THE SENTINEL 148 

THE CAMP-FIRE AT SARATOGA 220 

WASHINGTON SENDING HIS ULTIMATUM TO CORNWALLIS . . 417 
THE OFFICERS CAROUSING AT VERPLANCK'S POINT .... 481 

(vii) 



CAMP-FIRES 
OF THE REVOLUTION, 



THE CAMP-FIRE ON DORCHESTER HEIGHTS. 

A SEASON of gloom and anxiety, harassing as that 
which preceded the action on Bunker Hill, had set in 
upon that army of patriots which during ten months 
had prosecuted the siege of Boston. A movement 
was made silently, and by night, toward Dorchester 
Heights; in the bright moonlight of a still March 
evening, the chosen band, under General Thomas, 
selected the ground, broke the frozen earth, and began 
the erection of breastworks. No words were spoken, 
save those of command, and they crept along the 
lines in whispers ; none thought of rest, or complained 
of fatigue ; but animated by the desire of liberty, by 
the remembrance of Bunker Hill and Concord, and 
by the thoughts of those who had been left at the 
fireside, lonely and defenceless, they toiled with an 
alacrity and success which astonished themselves. 
2 (13) 



14 THE CAMP-FIRE ON 

Far different was the scene on the plains. There, 
throughout the night, the whole park of artillery, 
superintended by Washington in person, played upon 
the city of Boston, illuminating the sky with arches 
of fire, and dimming the pale light of the moon. 
Strange and bewildering was the spectacle to many 
of the colonists ; for even after an actual warfare 
of many months, they could not comprehend how 
brethren of the same race could embrue their hands 
in each other's blood. Yet the object of Washington 
was less to annoy the enemy, than to conceal the 
operations at Dorchester Heights. He succeeded; 
and on the following day, the British troops beheld, 
with admiration and astonishment, a series of breast- 
works, which, looming .through the morning mist, 
seemed, in their distorted proportions, to be the work 
of giants. 

Yet all this was but the prelude to a more exciting 
scene. Throughout that day, the forts of Boston, 
and the shipping in the harbour, maintained a heavy 
fire upon the frail works on the Heights ; while Gene- 
ral Thomas and his officers, mounted on horseback, 
perceived, with the aid of their glasses, (jlosely com- 
pacted regiments marching toward the ferry. That 
an attack was intended, none doubted ; and the heart 
of many a patriot throbbed with mingled emotions, 
as he thought on the prize which was to be staked on 
the following morning. 



DORCHESTER HEIGHTS. 15 

The sun went down behind thin, misty clouds ; and 
as the light grew fainter till it was lost in darkness, 
the bustle and animation on each side increased. 
The men on the Heights, no longer fearful of disco- 
very, worked merrily; encouraging each other by 
every means, until the breastwork was finished. 
Washington crossed over from the opposite plain, 
that he might superintend the expected battle in 
person ; the sturdy yeomanry, aroused by rumors of 
the events of the two preceding days, poured into the 
camp well armed, and threatening vengeance on the 
foe ; and amid the uproar of a cannonade by night, 
the brave men who had labored so assiduously, 
raised their tents and built their fires amid showers 
of earth arnd stones, struck from the hill by the 
enemy's balls. 

The men lay on their arms all night. Most of 
them were soon sunk in slumber ; but there were a 
few whom excitement would not suffer to sleep. 
These, in small groups, sat around the blazing piles, 
listening to the sounds which came at irregular inter- 
vals from the city, or rehearsing stories of the last 
year s adventures. One of these groups, consisting 
of four men, might be seen seated with their backs 
against a huge bundle of hay, that formed part of the 
works, and partaking with great satisfaction of a 
slight repast; making a table, of course, of their 
knees. 



16 THE CAMP-FIRE ON 

"I hope they'll get across the Neck," remarked 
one, whose name was Stuart. 

" Heaven grant it !" was the answer. " If they do, 
they'll remember Dorchester for some years, I'm 
thinking. It will be a bloodier battle than Bunker 
Hill. Think of poor Warren, boys !" 

" He shall be revenged !" exclaimed another, named 
Hadley. "As for me, I do n't see the use of this tire- 
some business that they call a 'siege.' Here we've 
been marching, and drilling, and firing cannon, ever 
since — let me see — was n't it June when old Putnam 
fought on Bunker Hill ?" 

Stuart answered in the affirmative. 

" Well, ever since then. I know it was dreadful 
hot, and we '11 soon have summer again ; so it 's been 
almost a year. Why don't his excellency let us 
march over at once, and drive the red-coat rascals and 
tories out of town, as we did at Concord ?" 

" Because he knows better than we do," Stuart re- 
plied. 

" Hark !" exclaimed the eldest of the four, named 
Green. " Was that cannon ?" 

A deep, crashing sound broke on the stillness which 
had reigned for a short time previous, and the echo 
rolled heavily in the distance. Then all was again 
silent, save that the breathing of the wearied men 
was heard around, and sounds which seemed strange 
and mysterious, came from the harbor. The party 



DORCHESTER HEIGHTS- 17 

grasped their muskets, and looked one upon another, 
in breathless expectation. 

" It sounded like thunder," Stuart said, breaking 
the silence. 

" Not likely to thunder in the month of March," 
replied Green. 

" But let 's keep quiet, boys, till we get orders -, for 
you may depend upon it, we '11 have enough to do be- 
fore many days." 

" Tell us about Concord, Ben," said Stuart, address- 
ing Hadley. " I wish I had been there with you." 

" You may well wish that," was the reply, as Had- 
ley placed himself in a more erect position, prepara- 
tory to beginning upon his favourite theme. 

" It was a glorious day ; and the neighbors rose in 
their strength, to show the murderers of our people 
who was going to be master. It made the blood tingle 
in our veins, when we came to Concord, and saw our 
poor countrymen lying by the roadside, and heard 
that ruffian Pitcairn cursing the handful of men who 
were flying before his bayonets !" 

" Did our men run ?" enquired Barry. 

" Yes," resumed Hadley, " till the boys from Read- 
ing, Dorchester, and Roxbury, came up. Then we 
went right at them. We didn't wait for a com- 
mander ; we did n't besiege them ; but we beat them 
clean up the old road from Concord to Lexington, and 
from Lexington to Charlestown, till every poor fellow 
2* B 



18 THE CAMP-FIRE ON 

who fell on our side was properly revenged — all be- 
cause they called us rebels !" 

"It was a glorious day!" ejaculated Stuart, half- 
musingly. 

" But tell us how it began, and all about it," said 
Barry. 

" So I will ; but let us stir up the fire first, for it 's 
getting chilly. — You remember what a stir there was 
in Boston, when Gage arrived with ' reinforcements,' 
as he called them. A worse-looking set of thieves 
and rascals — for they are nothing else — you never 
saw. They squinted maliciously at the neighbors 
as they marched by ; and some of them had got so 
used to that fashion, that they could n't look straight 
when they tried ! I was in town then ; and I tell 
you, lads, it was hard to keep hands off of them, even 
though they did shoulder muskets. Some brisk lads 
met, two or three days afterwards, to see if they 
could plan some mischief against them ; but one, who 
had been to college and read a great many books, per- 
suaded them out of it. I think he was half a coward, 
though he did know more than the rest of us. 

" Things went on bad enough for more than a year, 
but we didn't get to blows with the soldiers, because 
the time hadn't come. Our great men had deter- 
mined not to strike the first blow, and not to take the 
second, without putting one in between. By and by, 
the Boston men discovered that Gage had spies out, 



DORCHESTER HEIGHTS, 19 

who went through all the streets, prying into every- 
body's business, and reporting anything that they 
thought would hurt one of our men, to the officers. 
Many a one was treated hard enough, merely because 
these telltales informed on him. But still we kept 
quiet, only trying to get one of these villains into a 
by-place, where tar and feathers might be had. At 
last, however, these fellows became such a nuisance, 
that some working-men in town formed a society to 
watch them ; and you may depend upon it, they did 
the business close enough. Ever3i^^ight, even in the 
depth of winter, they would be out, walking the 
streets in all directions, mixing with the soldiers, 
talking to the spies, and picking up all kinds of news 
about the army, sometimes before it reached Gage's 
men themselves. No weather could keep them from 
their duty. These men waded through snow-storms, 
breasted the rain, and travelled over the glib ice when 
everything cracked with the cold. Once, one of them, 
tired, I suppose, with working hard all day, stumbled 
and fell into a frozen pond in the upper part of the 
town, which came near costing him his life. 

" There was a good deal of drilling among our boys 
about the same time, and we continued to store up 
some ammunition where Gage's men could n't find it. 
The women helped us mightily in this work, know- 
ing, as they did, so many nooks and corners where 
things could be stowed away in safety. By and by 



20 THE CAMP-FIUE ON 

our men grew bolder. They stored their powder and 
balls at Concord, not caring whether Gage knew of it 
or not; and some of them talked pretty strongly 
about kicking up a fuss, if the soldiers should be sent 
to take away what did n't belong to them." 

" They were sent, though," interrupted Barry. 

" Yes — but do n't drive me ahead of the story. — 
The battle, you know, took place on Wednesday. 
Well, on the Saturday previous. Dr. Warren observed 
a great stir among the soldiers ; and before night a 
good number of them were off duty, and pretending 
to drill. But this was only a sham to deceive us ; for 
you must know, lads, that Gage was as artful and as 
sly as a black snake. Dr. Warren, however, watched 
him close enough ; and about midnight what should 
he behold but the sailors getting the boats ready to 
cross over toward Concord. Then it was he felt sure 
that no time was to be lost ; so he sends Colonel 
Revere to tell Mr. Adams and Mr. Hancock to take 
care of themselves. These three talked over the 
matter together at Lexington ; and it was agreed that 
when Revere went back to Boston he should make 
signals, to let the surrounding country know if the 
rascally soldiers were going to attack them." 

" Signals," interrupted Stuart ; " what kind of 
signals ?" 

Scarcely was this question asked, when the same 
heavy sound, which had disturbed the party before, 



DORCHESTER HEIGHTS. 21 

again broke on the stillness of the night. Now it 
rolled near enough to convince them that it was 
thunder ; and each one, on gazing around, beheld the 
sky overcast with pitchy clouds, and the atmosphere 
shrouded in thick darkness, while the wind rushed by 
in fitful and powerful gusts. A feeling of gloom, 
mingled with uneasy foreboding, stole upon the heart 
of even the boldest ; and after a vain attempt to 
pierce the darkness with the eye, the little party 
again drew close to their camp-fire, wrapped their 
blankets around them, and awaited the conclusion of 
Hadley's narration. 

" I believe I left ojQf at the signals," he resumed. 
" It was managed, boys, in this way. If the soldiers 
should march out by Roxbury, a light was to be hung 
in North Church steeple ; but if they crossed in their 
boats to the country, there were to be two lights. 
— Revere got back to Boston on Sunday ; and he 
arranged matters with Dr. Warren, in such a manner 
that Gage knew nothing about it. All day, on Mon- 
day and Tuesday, our men were busy picking up 
information about what the soldiers intended to do ; 
but the busiest time was yet to come. All the town 
was in alarm ; folks left their own houses and ran to 
others, whenever anybody arrived with fresh news ; 
no one talked loud, but only whispered. Few men 
worked on those two days ; but you might see crowds 
at the corners, speaking low, but rolling their eyes 



22 THE CAMP-FIRE ON 

like mad people, and clenching their hands as firm as 
iron. Some were afraid to speak, or to listen when 
others wanted to speak; and a good number, not 
knowing what might happen, were busily engaged in 
hiding their little notions where they thought the 
soldiers could n't get at them. 

" After some time the fears of the people increased. 
An order came on Tuesday, that no one should leave 
Boston that night; but Warren had just sent Colonel 
Revere and Mr. Dawes to warn the whole neighbor- 
hood ; so Gage was cheated, after all his pains. They 
did n't forget to hang the lanterns in the steeple 
either; and it was a sight to make one hold his 
breath, to see those two dim lanterns burning in the 
darkness, to warn the people of their danger. I was 
going home that night, after being out to buy some 
flour ; and the first thing I saw on looking toward 
town, was the lights in the steeple. Thinks I to my- 
self, ' There 's news, sure enough ;' and home I hurried 
to Lexington, as fast as my horse could trot. Pretty 
soon. Colonel Revere rode into the town, giving the 
alarm wherever he went, and stating that the soldiers 
were crossing Charlestown Neck. 

" While the news was spreading through the town, 
Mr. Dawes arrived. Both of them had been chased 
by the British ; but they were true men, and were 
afraid of nothing. At one o'clock on Wednesday 
morning they started for Concord, and our prayers 



DORCHESTER HEIGHTS- 23 

went with them ; but you remember they were both 
taken on the road. The British left Revere behind, 
fearing they would be pursued. And they had good 
cause to fear ; for the whole country was by this time 
alarmed, and the militia preparing to fight the minute 
the first gun should be fired. 

" Nor had they to wait long. At five o'clock on 
Wednesday morning, a man on horseback, without 
cap or coat, galloped into Lexington, shouting that 
the British were coming up the road. Some called 
to him to stop ; but he rushed on in that mad way 
toward Concord. Then it was that the blood boiled 
in our veins. We remembered the insults and threats 
which had been heaped upon us so long, and swore 
that they should be revenged that day. Some ran 
through the streets, waving their hats over their 
heads, and hurraing for their rights. The women 
hurried from house to house, gathering muskets for 
the militia, and carrying ammunition in their aprons. 
No one was idle, and no one was afraid to face all the 
British troops — yes, and to fight them, too, if fighting 
was to be done. 

"At last the drum beat to arms. We seized our 
muskets and rushed to the green. Captain Parker 
drew us up, seventy strong, in double rank ; telling 
us to fight bravely in the cause of freedom- It was 
only a little while after that, that the clouds of dust 
in the road told that the enemy were coming. Then 



24 THE CAMP-FIRE ON 

we heard their drums beating, and saw the bayonets 
peeping out from the dust, and glittering in the sun. 
One company after another came in sight, until our 
little party looked like a mere handful, compared 
to them. But we did not fly — not when we saw the 
officers pointing at us with their swords, and the 
men lowering their guns for a charge. Our hearts 
were beating, but not with fear : no, we would have 
been cut to pieces before one of us would have acted 
cowardly ! But what could seventy men do against 
nearly a thousand ? We had not long to consider. 
Their leader galloped up lik a madman; cursing, 
shouting, and ordering us to disperse. It was hard 
to let him finish without letting fly at him ; but our 
captain told us we must keep quiet. All at once they 
poured a volley upon us. No one was hurt ; and as 
we did n't choose to run for their powder, we faced 
them just as boldly as before. Seeing this, they fired 
again; and then the dreadful scene began. How 
many fell, I had no time to find out, before I heard a 
deep groan on my left. It seemed to me that I knew 
the voice ; and turning round, I saw m}^ poor brother 
lying on his back, with his eyes turned up toward 
me. 

" But he was n't shot ?" enquired Stuart. 

" Shot — dying — the blood pouring from his side. 
I could contain myself no longer ; but pulled the 
trigger of my musket so that it broke in my hand." 



DORCHESTER HEIGHTS. 25 

"And did the others fire, too?" enquired Barry. 

" Yes — but I have forgotten all that followed till 
we left Lexington. My brain reeled ; and though I 
heard the shouts of the British as they advanced, I 
did not see them. I was trying to assist poor Sam, 
but the tide bore me on ; and when I regained my 
senses, I was standing in a field, with two or three 
other men, uttering, as they told me, the wildest lan- 
guage against my brother's murderers." 

" But where were they first checked ?" asked Green. 

" Not till they got to Concord. It was then seven 
o'clock. All the militia in town were drawn up on 
the hills ; and the news of the affair at Lexington 
filled them with fury. The enemy marched to the 
storehouses, broke them open, and began the work of 
destruction. The flour was emptied into the river ; 
the ball, which we had gathered with so much care, 
stolen or sunk in wells, and our two cannon battered 
and abused till they were unfit for use. We let them 
do it all quietly, but swore that every pennyworth 
should be taken out of their red jackets. Next they 
began to break up the bridges ; and this was more 
than we could bear. We were getting stronger 
every minute ; for the farmers came up to the scratch 
like men, and all the towns were ringing their bells, 
and sending messengers in every direction, to get up 
a general rising. I had joined the party on the hills. 
We couldn't wait any longer; but down we went, 
3 



26 THE CAMP-FIRE ON 

with gallant Davis at our head, waving his sword, 
and calling on us to strike for freedom, but not to give 
the first blow. Near the bridge they fired upon us 
again, and Davis, with another man, fell dead. We 
flung back a volley that made the old hills echo ; and 
half a dozen of Gage's men dropped. They wheeled 
and fired again, and we did the same, till the guns 
cracked merrily all around, and we saw them falling 
as our men did at Lexington. The enemy didn't 
stand it long, but went back to the town in a greater 
hurry than they had quitted it. But we were after 
them in hot pursuit. British guns could n't frighten 
us as the name once did ; for every one was deter- 
mined to fight it out, if he should be riddled for it. 
You may believe it cheered our hearts as we chased 
the cowards, to see the old men, too feeble to fight, 
and wives and mothers, at the windows, encouraging 
us to push on, and waving their handkerchiefs, in- 
stead of flags. 

" Then it was we heard the old drums, that had 
been with us when we whipped the French, beating 
along the roads to Concord, and telling us that help 
was at hand. And soon the hills and lanes were 
swarming with the boys from Reading and Roxbury, 
who had heard of their friends being shot, and had 
come to ask satisfaction. And when we saw them 
coming, shouting that more were behind, and heard 
the bells tolling for the dead, and giving the alarm to 



DORCHESTER HEIGHTS. 27 

the living, we rushed headlong on the murderers, and 
drove both them and their commander out of the 
town. Then they began their retreat toward Boston, 
trying to march decently for a little while, as though 
not afraid of us. But we soon helped their pace, 
paying particular attention to their rear and flanks. 
The boys who didn't pursue, got among the rocks 
and bushes, and peppered them as they went along. 
There was some shouting among us, when they began 
to run like a flock of sheep, with their long guns over 
their shoulders, and their faces as white as a tent- 
cloth. When they were near one of the gaps opening 
into the road. Captain Parker lighted on them with 
his little party from Lexington. He galled their 
flank properly till they passed, and then joined in the 
pursuit. Militia came on as though they were spring- 
ing from the ground ; and the sides of the road blazed 
with one sheet of fire after another. ! it was 
glorious to be in that chase — glorious ! Remember, 
boys, how often we were insulted by Gage, and called 
'rebels,' or 'Yankees,' by his men ! Yes, and cowards, 
too — cowards ! The blood boils at the word ! And 
then our bleeding men behind us ! — It was glory, I 
say, lads, to chase the rascals like deer up the road, 
and make them feel that 'rebels' could fight as well 
as they ! 

" They were running pretty swiftly before they 
reached Lexington ; the officers behind shouting 



28 THE CAMP-FIRE ON 

as loud as they could, but to no purpose. While 
some were hurrying on, they trod down others ; and 
these we took special care of. The poor fellows who 
had been wounded were thrown into wagons, and 
hurried to the front ; for these brutes, if they could 
but save their own lives, cared no more for their men 
than they did for us. But at last some of the officers 
got to the front, and pushed their heroes back with 
sword and bayonet. Then they began to form, — we 
peppering them all the time to our hearts' content, 
till their ranks looked like a broken pale-fence. And 
believe me, boys, had that other mob of cowards 
stayed away a little longer, we would have read them 
a lesson, on the knock-down part of war, which they 
would have remembered as long as they were in the 
service." 

" How many came to their help ?" Green enquired. 

" Nine hundred, with two field-pieces." 

" But how did Gage know that we had beat them ?" 
asked Barry. 

" Know ?" resumed the narrator ; " everybody knew 
it. I told you that the old bells were talking from 
every steeple. One or two of the soldiers, who could 
run faster than the others, had got to Cambridge; 
and Colonel Smith, who led the party, had also sent 
a messenger to Boston, to give information of how 
matters were going. 

"The reinforcement was commanded by Lord 



DORCHESTER HEIGHTS. 29 

Percy, as he calls himself; but he 's no better than a 
farmer or a militia-man, if he is a lord ; and so he 
found out before the battle was over. He stopped 
our firing for awhile, with his field-pieces ; but they 
could n't scare us either ; — we were no more afraid of 
them than we were of the musketry. Percy's arrival 
was a welcome aid to the retreating party ; and they 
dropped at once on the ground, unable to move hand 
or foot, and panting with their tongues out like dogs. 
His lordship placed his troops around them in a 
square, making a great show, and firing up the road 
with his cannon. Our boys were n't fools enough to 
attack just then, but waited for the signal of march- 
ing. This was given in about half an hour ; and at 
the same moment we were up, creeping through the 
bushes, and around the hills, but keeping out of range 
of the cannon. When the red-coats saw what we 
were about, they were very anxious to get a shot at 
us; but seeing they couldn't, then, just out of spite, 
they set old Billy Wilson's house on fire. The old 
man had been with us all day; and as he had just 
got over the ague a week before, he felt tired enough. 
But when he saw his house burning, he says, ' Boys, 
we must take the price out of their skins, for we 
won't get it any other way !" and so he joined again 
in the pursuit. By and by, they set fire to another 
house, and then another, till nearly all the houses on 
the Lexington road were in flames. Many a poor 
3* 



30 THE CAMP-FIRE ON 

fellow, just beginning life, lost all he had ; and we 
could see women running with their children to hide 
among the bushes and behind trees. All that had 
happened before did n't excite us half as much as this 
sight ; and we swore to have vengeance, in spite of 
their field-pieces. A goodly party hurried on to 
West Cambridge ; for we were determined to make a 
stand there. It w^as a lucky thought; for General 
Heath himself was there, with Dr. Warren. We 
cheered loud enough at the sight of them ; but they 
told every man to be quiet, and do his duty. Then 
we were placed in regular fighting order ; and pretty 
soon a whole party of our lads came up from Brook- 
line and Dorchester. We were quiet enough till the 
soldiers came by, and then we rushed right at them. 
Some of them were for running, but the officers drove 
them back. They then blazed away at us with a 
cannon, and John Miller was shot through the breast. 
He was a brave fellow, and with his last breath he 
called to us to push on. And on we did push, till we 
got too near for the cannon to be aimed at us. Then 
each one had to scratch for himself; and you may 
rely on it, boys, the rebellion w^ent on briskly. They 
kept charging on us with their bayonets; but we 
slipped out of the road; and then the way clubs, 
pitchforks, flails, and muskets, swung round them, 
wasn't slow. Old Deacon Growler hit a little red- 
faced captain such a blow with the butt-end of his 



DORCHESTER HEIGHTS. 31 

musket, right under the ear, as lifted him off the 
ground ; and just as a soldier was aiming his bayonet 
at Jake Long's ribs, his face was smashed flat by an- 
other awful thwack from the Deacon, who quoted 
Scripture all the time, as if he was leading a prayer- 
meeting. Tom Simmons brought down a horseman, 
who was shouting, ' Cut down the rebels ! cut them 
down !' and another man, who leaned over his horse 
to look at his companion, tumbled headforemost over 
him, shot through the back. The others slipped off 
their horses in double-quick time ; but now and then 
we got a shot at them, if they did mix with the 
foot-soldiers. Everything among them was by this 
time in a good deal of confusion ; and we could see 
clearly enough that some of them were more anxious 
to get out of the fuss, than they were to get into it. 
But we stuck to them close as pine-knots, sending one 
after another out of misery, and shouting loud enough 
to be heard clear over the hills. They had quit call- 
ing us 'Yankees' more than two hours before; but 
we were not ashamed of the name ; and so we hurraed 
for the Yankees with all our might. It made them 
mad enough ; but our blood was up, and they had to 
take it." 

" How many do you suppose they lost ?" enquired 
Barry. 

"About a hundred, without counting the prisoners 
or the wounded. So you see it was no wonder they 



32 THE CAMP-FIRE ON 

got tired of it. — At last, seeing there was no chance 
to get off, they began to fight desperatelj'^ ; but they 
didn't drive us back till both the cannon were 
brought up, and then we slipped to one side ; — not 
that we were afraid, but we did n't want to stand 
there, and let them have all the shooting to them- 
selves. As soon as they moved again, we posted 
after them ; and a hot race it was,*the whole way up 
to Charlestown Heights. I do n't know but that we 
would have attacked them even there, during the 
night, if Gage hadn't sent his whole force over to 
their assistance." 

" Did you get home safe ?" asked Green, 
" We did n't go home at all," Hadley replied. " I 
tell you, old man, the whole country, for miles around, 
was in arms. Our men were out in all directions, 
sj)reading the glorious news that a battle had been 
fought, and that the red-coats had got a thrashing. 
It was sunset before we chased them into Cambridge ; 
yet, when I stood on one of the neighboring hills, I 
could hear the old drums beating far off, and see 
signals shot up by parties that were hurrying on to 
help us. No — we did n't think of going home ; for, 
as I said before, our blood was up, and we were deter- 
mined to stay and see it out. We wanted Charley 
Ellis to leave us for the night, and go to a farm-house 
a good distance from his home, where he had left his 
mother and sisters two days before ; but he says to 



DORCHESTER HEIGHTS- 33 

US, ^Boys, mother and Lucy, and the rest, are safe 
enough, so long as we keep the red-coats in Boston ; 
and I 'm going to stay and do my share at it !' And 
Squire Hawthorne's son, who had been married only 
three days, when we asked him why he stayed away 
from his young wife, made answer, that it was to de- 
fend her. He had fought like a dragon the whole 
day — all, as he said, for the sake of Lizzy. Eben- 
ezer Grant was out, too. You know, Stuart, what a 
cross old dog he used to be." 

" Yes, I do," was the answer. " He nearly broke 
my Bill's head, one morning, because he hurraed for 
liberty ; and when I went down to see about it, I 
found him as crooked as a crab-tree. He swore I was 
wrong, and the British were wrong, and the rioters 
were wrong — all were wrong. People thought he 
was half a tory." 

" So they did," resumed Hadley ; " but they were 
wrong, too. He is as good a patriot as any of us. 
Early that morning, just before the fight at the 
bridge, who should join us but Ebenezer, with his 
musket over his shoulder, swearing he 'd shoot every 
red-coat he could take aim at. We could scarcely 
make him wait till we moved; but the way the 
old man loaded and fired when the battle did begin, 
was encouraging. He could n't well keep up with us, 
on account of his sore foot; but two of them, who 
had no guns, helped him along, and he fired and 

c 



34 THE CAMP-FIRE ON 

loaded, saying, if they 'd walk for him, he 'd fight for 
them. 

" When Hawthorne spoke about fighting from love 
of his wife, Ebenezer told him that he did n 't like 
fighting from love ; and that as for himself, the little 
he did was out of pure hate to the red-coats. We 
got used to the old man before the battle was over, 
and found there was a great deal of dry humor in 
him after all. He stayed with us all night." 

" When did the siege commence ?" asked one of the 
party. 

" Right away. There was no time lost. Next 
day, old Putnam joined us, and began to put things 
to rights. He had left his plough in the furrow, on 
hearing of the battle, and rode a hundred miles to 
join us. Heath was also on the ground, and the 
^ provincials,' as they are called, continued to pour in 
from all quarters." 

By this time, the storm was raging without, with 
real equinoctial fury ; and the tents of the men were 
thoroughly saturated with the drenching shower. 
Hadley stopped his narrative, and with his three 
companions looked out of the tent-door. The dark- 
ness had increased to a pitchy gloom, and through 
the thick atmosphere, teeming with floods of rain, no 
ray of light could be seen. Hadley gazed for a mo- 
ment, and then turning to the others, remarked : — 

" They will not cross to-night." 



DORCHESTER HEIGHTS. 35 

Green shook his head. " No boat could brave such 
a storm as this." 

" We shall have no fight to-morrow," said Hadley, 
despondingly ; " the very elements are against us." 

"Perhaps it's for the best," remarked Barry; "for 
when the red-coats attack us next, it will be worse 
than Bunker Hill for both parties." 

"Are you afraid of them?" asked Stuart. 

" Ned Barry was never afraid !" was the answer. 
"All I say is, that perhaps the storm was sent by 
Providence, for some good purpose that we know no- 
thing of" 

" I can't say as to that," returned Hadley ; " but I 
know we can beat the red-coats, any day they choose 
to try us !" 

"No doubt of it, boys!" Green ejaculated; "but 
there 's some of them on the bay, or I 'm mistaken. 
Just listen." 

"I hear men's voices," whispered Barry, after a 
pause. 

" So did I. They seem to be crying for help." 

There ensued a short period of racking silence. 

" Hark," said Stuart ; — "if the wind would only 
stop blowing for a minute." 

Then came the report of a gun, pealing faintly up 
the Heights ; — another and another followed. The 
hearts of the four men leaped with excitement. 

" They are sinking !" Green exclaimed. 



36 THE camp-fire" at DORCHESTER. 

Another interval of anxiety followed; but they 
heard no more ; and at length each one retired to his 
rude bed. Their camp-fire faded and expired during 
the storm, and when daylight broke over the Heights 
of Dorchester, it apprized the anxious provincials of 
the frustration of the plans of the enemy. An at- 
tempt of General Gage to effect a passage for his 
troops to the American side, was prevented by the 
storm; and the militia who had heard the sounds 
from the water during the night, believed that they 
were uttered by some of the soldiers who had perished 
in the storm. 



THE CAMP-FIRE AT CAMBRIDGE. 

The winter of 1776 found the American army still 
encamped at Cambridge and its vicinity. The com- 
mander-in-chief was making the greatest exertions to 
discipline and provide for his army ; but, not being 
ably seconded by the governments of the States, his 
exertions necessarily produced but little effect. The 
winter had come on, and found the army with but 
few tents, scarcely any clothing, very little ammuni- 
tion, and about two thousand men were without fire- 
locks. The winter, fortunately, proved to be a mild 
one, and little ice was formed till the middle of 
February, when it was so strong as to enable the 
troops to march over it from Roxbury to Dorchester. 
The Heights were secured and fortified in the night, 
while the attention of the British was diverted by an 
incessant cannonading and bombardment, kept up 
during three nights, from Lechmere's Point, Cobble 
Hill, and Roxbury. The American army was so 
posted as to form a complete line of siege, extending 
from Mystic River to Dorchester, a distance of nearly 
4 (37) 



38 THE CAMP-FIRE 

twelve miles. The far-seeing Washington had ar- 
ranged his army in three divisions, each consisting of 
two brigades, or six regiments, and in such a manner 
as to bring the troops from the same colony together, 
and under the command of officers from that colony. 
The right wing, at Roxbury, was under the command 
of Major-General Ward ; the centre division, at Cam- 
bridge, was commanded by Major-General Putnam; 
and the left wing, at Winter Hill, by Major-General 
Lee. The head-quarters of the commander-in-chief 
were at Cambridge. 

It was March, of '76. The attack on Dorchester 
Heights having been prevented by a violent storm, 
General Howe had resolved to evacuate Boston ; and 
Washington and his army saw with pride and gratifi- 
cation, that their object was gained. The militia 
who had joined the army with the expectation of 
encountering the enemy on Dorchester Heights, and 
there avenging the blood of their countrymen, shed 
on the day of which that was the anniversary, had 
been disappointed; yet were still satisfied with the 
knowledge that their foes were compelled to leave 
Boston. The night was chilly, and the troops at 
Cambridge had slight covering. Rudely-constructed 
tents, and scant clothing, were insufficient for the un- 
certain changes of the weather in that latitude. The 
moon was shining clearly, but her beams were cold as 
the smile on the face of the dead. Around a fire in 



AT CAMBRIDGE. 39 

one of tlie tents, four men were sitting. Each was 
dressed in the hunting-shirt, adopted by Washington 
to banish provincial distinctions ; but the rest of their 
clothing differed as much as possible ; the coarseness 
of material being about the only point of resemblance. 
They were sitting on logs, which they had cut as 
substitutes for chairs. On the fire, which was con- 
tained in the space formed by four large stones, placed 
at right angles, something was cooking ; no doubt in- 
tended for their evening meal. 

" Jonathan, hand over a little more wood this way, 
will you ? There 's no use of bein' stingy about fire 
to-night ; besides, that 'ere fodder won't get done afore 
my appetite 's all gone," said one of the men, whose 
form may be described as ' linked leanness, long drawn 
out.'" 

" Oh, there 's no end to your appetite ! it can't all 
go, Zeb," said Jonathan, as he handed the wood over 
to the first speaker. 

" How near 's the vittles done ?" asked another of 
the men, anxiously. 

" Pretty near," answered the one who had not yet 
spoken. " It 's done now for some folks. Our Judith 
used to like her meat very rare." 

" I like rare meat myself," said Jonathan. " But I 
do n't suppose that '11 'zactly suit the rest of you. I 
think we ought to have somethin' to drink to- 
night." 



40 THE CAMP-FIRE 

" I wonder if they won't get up a glorification in 
Boston, when the Britishers get out of it ?" remarked 
Zeb ; " I think they oughter." 

" When are the red-coats goin' to leave Boston ?" 
asked one of the men, called Hiram. 

" I think it 's on the seventeenth of this month," 
answered Jonathan. " It 's a great pity the folks on 
the Heights didn't get a chance at 'em. I think 
they 'd have given 'em a little louder tune than was 
played on Bunker Hill." 

" Not much doubt about that," said another of the 
party, named Josiah. 

" Yes, there is some doubt about it, though," con- 
tinued Jonathan. "I was thar at Bunker Hill; I 
seed it all ; and I tell you, that thar would have to be 
a reg'lar screamer played, to beat the tune we played 
for 'em that day !" 

" Waal, you need n't go off so quick," returned 
Zeb. "I've heerd thar was some shootin' done on 
Bunker Hill ; and it 's likely thar would have been 
some done at Dorchester Heights." 

" Yes, but I tell you that thar was more 'n some 
shootin' at Bunker Hill," Jonathan replied. 

It was plain that Jonathan wanted to relate all he 
knew about Bunker Hill ; so his comrades thought 
they might as well have the story at once. 

"Jonathan," said Hiram, "you say you were on 
the ground, at the battle of Bunker Hill. S'posen 




THE EVRNING BEFORE THE BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL. 



AT CAMBRIDGE. 41 

you tell us all you know about the affair, and that '11 
settle the matter in dispute." 

" Cert'inly," replied Jonathan. " I '11 let you know- 
all that I know about it, and then you can tell your 
folks. Take off the meat first, though ; and you 
share it, Zeb, while I go on with the story." 

Zeb took the meat off the fire, and laid it on a 
piece of wood, preparatory to its being divided into 
four shares with a pocket-knife. Jonathan com- 
menced : — 

" Waal, fellers, you must know, in the first place, 
that the ginerality of people are mistaken about the 
place where the battle was fought. They call it the 
battle of Bunker Hill, when it was fought on Breed's 
Hill. The reason of it may be, that the continent- 
allers, — that is, we, — were ordered to march to Bun- 
ker Hill, and throw up ' entrenchments/ as they call 
'em ; but it bein' night-time, a mistake was made 
somehow, and we marched to Breed's Hill, that is just 
over here, a little nearer to Boston than Bunker Hill. 
We numbered a thousand men, and Colonel Prescott 
was at our head. We started pretty soon after dark, 
and marched as quietly as possible for a thousand 
men to move, but could n't begin to get on Breed's 
Hill, and get to work, before twelve o'clock. The 
moon shone bright all the time, and we could see the 
ships of the Britishers standin' a short way out from 
the land. They did n't seem to know anything about 
4 * 



42 THE CAMP-FIRE 

our bein' on the hill. Each man had a shovel, or a 
pickaxe, or a spade, to throw up the entrenchments 
with ; and there were a few lanterns taken with us, 
to be used in case of necessity. Waal, we went to 
work about twelve o'clock; and the way we threw 
the dirt about was almost a sin. We worked in that 
way for about five hours, I guess. Anyhow, it was 
just daylight when we finished a redoubt about eight 
rods square. We then set to work to throw up a 
breastwork extendin' from the east side of the redoubt 
to the bottom of the hill. We had just fairly got this 
breastwork under way, when the Britishers discovered 
us, and then they commenced firin' on us from all 
parts; from their ships, their floatin' batteries, and 
from their other fortifications, wherever they could 
have a chance at us. Waal, we did n't mind it much, 
but kept on with our work till we got the breastwork 
finished. They kept up their firin' and bombardin' 
till noon ; but in spite of all the bomb-shells and the 
cannon-balls, we only lost one man. We continued 
to work, makin' our redoubt and breastwork stronger, 
all the forenoon. We got a reinforcement of about 
five hundred men, and that made our whole force 
about fifteen hundred ; but I think we men that had 
been at work all night oughter have been relieved. 
We did n't even get anything to eat before the battle. 
About one o'clock, I guess it was, we saw the red- 
coats cross the river from Boston, and land near 



AT CAMBRIDGE. 43 

Charlestown. There must have been a good deal 
more of 'em than we could muster. Waal, they 
formed on the shore at Moreton's Point, but stayed 
there. While they were waitin', a party of our men, 
under Captain Knowlton, pulled up a post-and-rail 
fence, and puttin' it right square with another one, 
filled up the space with some new-mown hay that was 
lyin' near. This was a slender concern; but the 
party that held it kept the Britishers from cuttin' off 
our retreat. We soon saw that another detachment 
of the red-coats was comin' over the river ; and when 
they all got landed, I guess there must have been 
twice as many of 'em as there was of us. I do n't 
raaly think we had mor 'n fifty bagonets among the 
whole of us. Old, rusty firelocks, and powder-horns, 
were the most we could muster. Some of the guns 
looked as if they 'd been in the old French war. We 
had five pieces of cannon, and the Britishers had four 
or five times that many. Waal, they come on slowly 
after they had formed, to give their cannon time to 
blaze away at our works. They come up the hill in 
two columns. We were all at our posts behind the 
breastwork and in the redoubt. I was put behind 
the breastwork. I knew there was goin' to be a 
bloody time of it, and I kept my eyes fixed on the 
army that was comin' up the hill." 

" Where was Putnam and Prescott then ?" inter- 
rupted Zeb. 



44 THE CAMP-FIRE 

"Oh, Putnam, and Prescott, and Warren, and 
Pomeroy, were speechifyin' to the men, cheerin' 'em, 
and makin' 'em savage for the fight. Warren had his 
musket, goin' to fight like the rest of us. We could 
see the houses in Boston crowded on top with people, 
and the hills all around crowded in the same way. 
I thought I was goin' to fight for their good, and I felt 
strong. While the red-coats were comin' up the hill, 
we saw that Charlestown had been set on fire ; and 
that made me more like a bloodhound still. I wanted 
to get a chance at the infernal rascals. Waal, we got 
our orders from Putnam not to fire until we could see 
the white of their eyes ; and we waited quietly till 
they got within about sixty yards, and then such a 
blaze and roar of musketry run along that breastwork 
as never was seen. Such a stream of fire went into 
the British ranks, that they fell, it seemed to me, 
whole rows at a time. Of course they could n't stand 
that. They broke and run down the hill, in spite of 
their ofiicers. That give us a little breath ; and we 
waited in the same way as before, to see if they 
would come up to the work again. We got the same 
orders as before, and kept our fire back. After a good 
deal of coaxin' and bullyin' from their ofl&cers, we saw 
the red-coats comin' up the hill again, with their 
general near the head, with his ofl&cers around him. 
We let 'em get as near as before, and then let fly at 
'em. We picked 'em oflf with our true aim, till their 



AT CAMBRIDGE. 45 

Tanks were thinned all along the line, and then back, 
down the hill, they went again, like a flock of scared 
sheep. We hardly thought they 'd come up and try 
it again; the whole hill in front of the breastwork 
was covered with the killed and wounded. It seemed 
like leadin' the men up to be butchered. But Howe 
and some of the other officers rallied 'em again. The 
officers were good on the side of the Britishers ; for 
though they were picked off by our marksmen as fast 
as they came to the charge, those who were still alive 
rallied the men, and brought 'em up again, sometimes 
at the sword's point. Just as they were comin' up 
the hill for the third time, we discovered that our 
powder was most gone, and that we could n't get any 
more then : then was when the day began to turn 
against us. The Britishers had changed the position 
of their cannon, and they began to rake our breast- 
work from end to end, so that we had to leave it and 
take to the redoubt. Then the fire from all the bat- 
teries of the Britishers grew louder and hotter than 
ever. The red-coats came up to the work again, and 
we blazed into them with what ammunition we had. 
It was just then that I saw that major, that led the 
party of red-coats at Lexington, mount our breast- 
work. He cried out, * The day is ours !' but he had 
no sooner got the words out, than I shot him in the 
body, and he fell back into the arms of another 
officer, just behind him." 



46 THE CAMP-FIRE 

" The day was n't for him, was it ?" said Hiram. 

" No ; but he was a brave man," replied Jonathan. 
" I marked out Howe two or three times, but I always 
hit somebody else near him." 

" Some Howe you did n't hit," remarked Josiah, 
with a desperate effort at a pun. 

" Ezactly," answered Jonathan. " But, as I was 
sayin', the red-coats come up to the work again, and 
attacked the redoubt on three sides. Our amminition 
was out, and a retreat was ordered by the commander 
of the day. Colonel Prescott ; but we did n't feel in 
the humor of retreatin'. We knew that if we had 
had enough amminition we would have whipped the 
red-coats, and we did n't want to give up the ground. 
The red-coats mounted the walls of the redoubt ; but 
we clubbed our muskets and fought for every inch of 
ground we give 'em, though they had bagonets and 
we had none. I was one of the last to leave the re- 
doubt, and I saw Warren fightin' like a common 
soldier, I guess the redoubt must have been half full 
of red-coats before we left it. We had still to fight 
while we were retreatin' ; for they were upon us with 
their bagonets. I had to swing my musket on every 
side, to get clear of 'em. I saw Warren fall. I think 
he was shot in the body. Some of our men run up 
to him, and took him in their arms, as the Britishers 
crowded on to get at him with their bagonets. I had 
to fight my way to the rest of our men that were re- 



AT CAMBRIDGE, 



47 



treatin', and got cut two or three times with their 
bagonets ; but none of 'em hurt me much, and I got 
safe to Charlestown Neck, just as our troops were 



crossin'." 



" Did you lose many in retreatin' ?" asked Zeb. 

" I think that 's the time we lost the most. Their 
bagonets done all the damage. But if we had had 
amminition enough, they never would have had a 
chance to use their bagonets !" replied Jonathan. 

" Waal, Jonathan, who brought off the troops, in 
the retreat ?" Hiram enquired. 

" Prescott and Putnam, I believe," answered Jona- 
than. Prescott was only a colonel, and there was 
two or three generals on the ground; but he had 
command all through the battle — and a better com- 
mander, or a braver soldier, was n't on the ground. 
He 's a vet'ran of the French war." 

"You lost your artillery, didn't you?" was the 
next question. 

"Yes; we had no way of bringin' 'em off the 
ground in time," continued Jonathan. " We held on 
to 'em as long as we could." 

" Waal," remarked Zeb, " they bought that ground 
pretty dearly. Accordin' to the accounts I 've heard, 
they lost as many in killed and wounded as we had 
altogether ; while our loss was only about four hun- 
dred and fifty, killed and wounded." 

" Yes, they did buy the ground at a high price," 



48 THE CAMP-FIRE 

was the reply ; " and I hope they '11 buy all the 
ground they try to get, at the same dear rate. I 've 
heard it said that General Gage reports the loss at a 
thousand and fifty-four. I think eighteen hundred 
would n't more 'n cover it. Then there was more 'n 
eighty officers killed and wounded. We only had a 
hundred and thirty-nine killed, and two hundred 
and* seventy-eight wounded. Then there was thirty- 
six taken prisoners by the Britishers ; some of 'em, 
I know, might have got away, if they had n't stopped 
to see to General Warren." 

" Where did Warren fall ?" asked Zeb. 

" Just outside of the redoubt. I do n't know 
whether the red-coats killed him with their bagonets 
or not. I suppose they did. I hardly know which 
he was best at doin' — fightin', or speakin'. I heard 
him speak about the Boston massacre ; and I thought 
he was about the best I ever heard speak. He made 
the blood bile in my veins. I felt as if I could 
do anythin' to torment them infernal red-coats. I 
saw him in the battle, as I told you ; and I do n't 
think a better soldier ever went into a battle. He 
was n't only brave himself, but he made others brave 
that were round him." 

" He was always a great man," said Zeb. " They 
say a great man is great at all times and in all places ; 
and if ever there was such a one, it was General 
Warren !" 



AT CAMBRIDGE. 49 

" That 's true as gospel," Jonathan returned. " He 
was a great man at all times." 

" It 's a great pity he fell so soon in the war. I 
hardly know where we are goin' to get a man to fill 
his place," remarked Hiram. 

" Why, in Washington we 've got one," replied 
Jonathan. " Perhaps he 's a greater man than War- 
ren." 

" He 's at least his equal in goodness," said Josiah. 
" I know, from his care of us, that his heart 's in the 
right place ; and he has a reputation for bein' a com- 
plete general." 

" We 've got a good deal to see of General Wash- 
ington yet," Hiram remarked. " I think he '11 come 
up to expectation, though. This forcin' the British 
to leave Boston, is a good specimen of what he can 
do." 

" Yes, it 's a good deal for such a poorly-provided 
army as this to do," returned Jonathan. " There 's 
Major-General Howe, with ten thousand of the best 
of the British troops, goin' to march out of Boston ; 
glad to get away from an army of men mostly just 
from the plough, and a good many of 'em without 
muskets. It 's a rare thing, I tell you !" 

" I wish they had tried a battle at Dorchester 
Heights," said Hiram. " It would have been some- 
thin' to brag on, I know." 

The men had finished their repast while they were 
' 5 D 



50 THE CAMP-FIRE 

talking, and they were now anxious to obtain a little 
rest. The fire was fixed to keep burning all night, 
by a large log being put on one side, and the fire 
under and alongside of it ; after which, the men went 
around the tent, endeavoring to stop up all the cracks 
and openings as well as they could. They continued 
in conversation, however, till they were wrapped in 
their blankets and disposed for sleep. 

" I say, Zeb," Jonathan remarked, " how I would 
like to see the red-coats movin' out of Boston ! They 
will look so down in the mouth !" 

" Yes, I wish we could only get into it before they 
get away," replied Zeb. " I 'd like to have a laugh at 
'em." 

" They threaten to burn down the town, if they 're 
meddled with while leavin' Boston," said Hiram. 

" They 're devils enough to do it, too," said Josiah, 
stretching himself on one side of the fire. 

" I believe there 's some tories among the folks, 
that would set fire to the city to spite the whigs !" 
Zeb remarked, following suit on the other side. 

Jonathan and Hiram stretched themselves on the 
vacant sides of the fire, well wrapped up in their 
blankets ; prepared, like the rest, for the visitation of 
the drowsy god. 

" Josiah," said Jonathan, ^' you 're generally about 
the first one awake in the mornin' ; just crow to-mor- 
ro\v mornin', will you, when you get awake ? I want 



AT CAMBRIDGE. 51 

to get up early, and we 've got no roosters round this 
neighborhood !" 

Josiah returned no answer ; but the substitution of 
him for a rooster, caused a hearty laugh from those 
who were awake. One by one they joined him in his 
travels through the land of dreams ; and the occa- 
sional crackling of the fire, and the quiet tread of the 
sentinels, were the only sounds that broke the still- 
ness of the tent. 



THE CAMP-FIRE AT MOUNT INDEPENDENCE. 

The memorable invasion of Canada, in 1776, so 
full of successes, defeats, hardships, and sufferings, 
had terminated in the retreat of the American troop^. 
General Gates was appointed to command the northern 
army ; and through his exertions it soon became more 
regular in its discipline, and improved in condition in 
every respect. Instead of meditating the commence- 
ment of offensive operations, Gates was compelled to 
prepare to repel an invasion threatened by the British 
in Canada. A council of the general officers of the 
northern department having been called to deliberate 
on the means and place most suitable for defence, it 
was determined to make the principal work on the 
strong ground east of Ticonderoga. This was called 
Mount Independence. The army under Gates had 
increased, during the summer, to 12,000 men. Most 
of the troops were effective, many, of the men having 
recovered from the sickness which had overtaken 
them during the expedition into Canada. Upon 
learning that Sir Guy Ciirleton had evacuated Crown 
4 (52) 



CAMP-FIRE AT MOUNT INDEPENDENCE. 53 

Point, General Gates dismissed the militia that had 
joined him, with many thanks for their services ; 
this lessened the trouble of procuring provisions, a 
difficulty that became greater as the winter set in. 

The famous post of Ticonderoga, on Lake Cham- 
plain, was the head-quarters of General Gates. The 
possession of this strong position was absolutely 
necessary to any power which was contending for the 
command of the adjacent country. Its eastern side 
was naturally almost impregnable : being situated on 
a rocky promontory, it presented a rugged front to 
the lake. The northern and western sides were pro- 
tected by strong lines of defence, aided by an exten- 
sive morass. The surrounding country, beyond the 
morass, was composed of a thick and tangled wood. 
In this fortress, a large portion of the troops were 
stationed. Mount Independence, directly opposite to 
Ticonderoga, was strongly fortified, and well supplied 
with artillery. On the summit of the Mount, which 
is table-land, was erected a strong fort, in the centre 
of which was a convenient square of barracks, which 
were occupied by the troops. 

It was about the first of November. The weather 
was chilly and raw, but winter's approach was not 
yet severely felt. For about two weeks previous, 
there had been an anxious expectation that Sir Guy 
Carleton would make an attempt to capture the posts 
of Ticonderoga and Mount Independence; but ex- 
5* 



54 THE CAMP-FIRE 

pectation had been disappointed; for Carleton, con- 
vinced of the strength of the works, was induced to 
abandon the project, and return to Canada. This, of 
course, gave a feeling of security to the garrisons of 
the two posts. They had nothing to fear till about 
the mid^dle of January, when the lake would be frozen 
over, capable of bearing horses, and an attack might 
be made with more prospect of success. 

It was a moonlight night ; beautiful, though cold. 
The soft light was flowing upon the scene of lake, and 
hill, and valley, bathing them in beauty. The bosom 
of the lake was gently ruflled by the chilly breeze, 
and the ripples sparkled in the silvery light. The 
black-mouthed cannon loomed from the fort on the 
mount, as if to warn a foe, if such were near, of the 
death that awaited an attack. Most of the men were 
in the barracks, glad to get near a good, cheerful fire, 
and enjoy each other's conversation. Some, more 
sensible to the beauties of such a night, were walking 
out on the open space within the walls of the fort, 
enjoying the scene presented to their view. The 
company around a fire in one of the apartments in 
the barracks, shall interest us at present with their 
conversation. The fire was built upon a large hearth 
on one side of the apartment ; and about a dozen men 
were sitting round it, in the form of a semicircle. 
They were comfortably clothed, but without that 
uniformity that would designate them as s^^ldiers, at 



AT MOUNT INDEPENDENCE. 55 

the first glance. Some of them were pale and thin- 
looking, as if they had just recovered from sickness. 
Others, and the greater portion of them, were stout, 
hearty-looking men, whose appearance denoted that 
they had encountered many hardships, but could 
yet brave much more fatigue and privation. 

" Bill," said one of the party, to a pale, sickly-look- 
ing individual, " we must keep the log rollin'. It 's 
your turn next. Bob come first, and then it '11 come 
around in this direction. Tell us about anything you 
know, and think we do n't know." 

" Yes," keep it movin'," said another. " You must 
pour out some thin'." 

" Really," said Bill, " I do n't think I could amuse 
you with anything I know." 

" You were with the army on the Canada expedi- 
tion ; were n't you ?" enquired the one who had first 
spoken. 

" Yes ; but I suppose you 've all heard about that, 
long ago," returned Bill. 

" I 've heard that there was an invasion of Canada, 
and that Montgomery was killed there, and our troops 
were forced to retreat," remarked another. 

" That 's pretty near the extent of my knowledge," 
said another of the group. " I should like to hear an 
account of it, by one who went through it all." 

" Come, Bill, you '11 have to tell us something ; so 
you might as well give us that as anything else," said 



56 THE CA'MP-FIRE 

the one nearest the fire, on one side, who had been 
called Bob. " It 's our law, that every one in the 
mess must either tell a story, or sing a song." 

" Well," replied Bill, " while I run over some of the 
details in my mind, so as to bring them up fresh in 
my memory, let John, here, next to me, sing a song." 

" I kick against that arrangement," said John. " I 
do n't pretend to sing ; besides, I do n't know anything 
you 'd care about hearin'." 

" You can sing," returned Bob ; " and you do know 
somethin' that I, at least, care about hearin'. You 
want a little coaxin', I guess. There 's that song I 
heard you singin' the other night, about throwin' the 
tea overboard in Boston harbor. That 's a good song." 

" I can sing you that song very easy ; but I do n't 
think it 's a good one," John replied. " It 's called 
' The Destruction of the Tea,' and is sung to the tune 
of ' Hosier's Ghost.' " 

" Go on then," said Bob ; and John, with sundry 
of the customary preliminaries, proceeded to sing the 
litty that follows : — 

As near beauteous Boston lying 

On the gently swelling flood, 
Without jack or pendant flying, 

Three ill-fated tea-ships rode; 

Just as glorious Sol was setting, 
On the whai-f a numerous crew, 



AT MOUNT INDEPENDENCE. 57 

Sons of Freedom, fear forgetting, 
Suddenly appeared in view. 

Armed with hammer, axe, and chisels, 

Weapons new for warlike deed. 
Towards the herbage-freighted vessels 

They approached with dreadful speed. 

O'er their heads, in lofty mid-sky, 

Three bright angel-forms were seen; 
This was Hampden, that was Sidney, 

With fair Liberty between. 

" Soon," they cried, " your foes you '11 banish, 

Soon the triumph shall be won; 
Scarce shall setting Phcebus vanish, 

Ere the deathless deed be done." 

Quick as thought the ships were boarded, 

Hatches burst and chests display'd; 
Axes, hammers help afforded; 

What a glorious crash they made ! 

Squash into the deep descended 

Cursed weed of China's coast; 
Thus at once our fears were ended ! 

British rights shall ne'er be lost. 

Captains! once more hoist your streamers, 
Spread your sails, and plough the "wave ! 

Tell your masters they were dreamers 
When they thought to cheat the brave. 



58 THE CAMP-FIRE 

" That 's a good song, and it was well sung," said 
one of the men, called Jake, for shortness. " I like 
to hear a song that 's got a chorus to it, a good deal 
better than one that has n't, though." 

" You like to help to roar it out, I suppose." re- 
marked Bob. 

" Not for that alone," said Jake. " There seems to 
be a good deal more life about it." 

" Well," enquired Bob, " have you 'most got your 
memor}^ raked up. Bill ?" 

" Yes, I think I can go on with the story now," was 
the reply. ^ 

" Then push ahead." 

" Well," Bill began, " when I heard there was going 
to be an invasion of Canada, I was at work on my 
father's farm, up here near Schenectady. I heard 
that they were raising troops for the invasion, both in 
this State and Massachusetts ; and in spite of all my 
father's objections, I would go. Accordingly, I joined 
the troops under Arnold, then at Cambridge. You 
see, the expedition under Arnold was going through 
a route that had scarcely ever been explored, and that 
promised something new. I preferred to go with that 
detachment, because there would be more glory ac- 
quired by accomplishing such a march as was ex- 
pected ; besides, there were several other young men 
of our neighborhood going with the same party. I 
had then no thought of its being so full of hardship 



AT MOUNT INDEPENDENCE. 59 

as it proved to be. Well, we started from Cambridge 
in the middle of September. We were to penetrate 
into Canada, by ascending the Kennebec, and de- 
scending the Chaudiere rivers, till we got to the St. 
Lawrence. We were pretty well fitted out with 
clothing, ammunition, batteaux for ascending the 
rivers, and many other things. It was n't certain how 
long we would be on the route, and that was the 
reason why we did n't take provision enough. The 
commander of the expedition had scarcely any idea 
of the obstacles we would have to overcome, and 
did n't calculate to be more than half the time going 
that we really was. Well, after sailing from New- 
buryport in transports, for two days, we commenced 
to ascend the Kennebec River. The current was very 
strong, and we had to work all the time against it. 
We would often come across a fall in the river, and 
then the whole party would have to get out of the 
boats, and carry them on the land till we got above 
the fall. I tell you, that one day's journey in this 
way was almost as much as one would want to per- 
form. When night would come on, we would get out 
of the boats, and hauling them up on the shore, en- 
camp in the woods for the night ; and hard as was 
our beds, the day's work was so much harder, that we 
were glad to get ashore and rest anywhere. Some of 
the men, that had come from the town, and were n't 
used to such work, fell sick after two or three days' 



60 THE CAMP-FIRE 

travel ; and they, of course, added to the incum- 
brances we had to bear. It was rather a bad time 
and place for men to get sick. The comforts and at- 
tendance sick people ought to have, were n't to be had 
with us — and they knew it, too ; for they held out 
till they almost dropped down with weakness. One 
of my companions, that came from the same neigh- 
borhood as I did, fell sick among the rest, and I paid 
him all the attention I could, but that was n't much. 
He had a sort of a fever, brought on by exerting him- 
self too much. Rest being the thing he wanted most, 
he soon got better ; and although he could n't do any 
work of any account, he ceased to be an incum- 
brance." 

" That is," said Bob, " you had n't the trouble of 
carrying him like the baggage." 

" Exactly," replied Bill. " Well, we continued on 
in the rough way we began, for two days ; working 
very hard all day, rowing ; and dragging the boats up 
places where the stream was too rapid for us to row 
or push the boats while in them. Colonel Arnold 
worked among the men, and pretty near as hard ; 
and so did Colonel Greene, and Major Bigelow, and 
Major Meigs. Captain Daniel Morgan was at the 
head of the riflemen. He is a brave man; and I 
think if he 's only spared long enough, he '11 be some- 
thing great." 

" Whose regiment were you in ?" enquired John. 



AT MOUNT INDEPENDENCE. 61 

" Greene's regiment — Colonel Christopher Green," 
replied Bill. " You '11 hear of him one of these days, 
I warrant you." 

" You must have had a great many batteaux, to 
take a thousand men up the river," remarked Bob. 
" Had you them all prepared before you started on 
the expedition ?" 

"Yes," was the reply. "A company of carpenters 
had been sent from Cambridge some days before we 
left there. They had built two hundred batteaux for 
the party, at a small plape called Pittston, on the 
Kennebec. They were all prepared when we got 
there. I did n't mention that circumstance, because 
I thought you might have heard about it. Well, you 
may judge of the toil we endured, burdened with our 
arms, ammunition, provisions, and clothing. When 
we carried the batteaux around a cataract or a rapid, 
we had all the baggage to carry with them. That 
was work such as I don't want to try again. We 
passed up the river in this way slowly. A recon- 
noitring party of six or seven men had been sent 
ahead, under the command of Lieutenant Steel, with 
orders to go as far as Lake Megantic, or Chaudiere 
Pond, as the French called it, and procure such intel- 
ligence as they could from the Indians, who were said 
to be in the neighborhood, on a hunting excursion ; 
and another party of seven men, with a surveyor and 
a guide, under the command of Lieutenant Church, 
6 



62 THE CAMP-FIRE 

to take the exact courses and distances of a stream 
called the Dead River. I forgot to tell you the order 
in which we journeyed. Morgan went ahead with 
his riflemen ; then came our party, under Greene and 
Bigelow, consisting of three companies of musketeers ; 
next came Meigs, with four companies; and last came 
Colonel Enos, wdth the three remaining companies. 
On the third day of our progress, we came in sight 
of Norridgewock Falls. A short distance below these 
falls, on the eastern bank of the river, was a w^ide 
and beautiful plain, where, w^e were told, an Indian 
village had stood, belonging to the tribe that the falls 
was named after — the Norridgewocks. They had 
once been a powerful tribe, and a French priest had 
come to civilize them, and lived there in that village 
among them for twenty-six .years. The village had 
been attacked suddenly by the colonial forces sent 
against the Norridgewocks, and the priest and eighty 
Indians killed. The foundations of a church, and the 
ruins of an altar, were to be seen on the plain, and 
they looked rather strange in that neighborhood. At 
the Norridgewock Falls was a portage, where all the 
batteaux had to be taken out of the river, and carried 
a mile and a quarter by land. Then came the hardest 
work. The banks on each side were uneven and 
rocky, and that made our progress slower still. We 
found, to mend the matter, that much of the provi- 
sions, particularly the bread, was damaged. The 



AT MOUNT INDEPENDENCE. 63 

boats had been badly made, and were leaky. The 
men not knowing how to navigate them, was the 
cause of a good many accidents in ascending the 
rapids. The carpenters we had with us were set to 
work to repair the worst of the boats, and that kept 
us back some days. The two first divisions of the 
army, — that is, Morgan's and ours, — started two days 
before the rest. I think it was seven days, before the 
whole army was in motion again. Colonel Arnold 
rode in a birch canoe, with an Indian for a guide, and 
was the last one to embark, as one of the men that 
was in the rear told me. However, we had scarcely 
arrived at the Great Carrying-Place, about twelve 
miles below the mouth of the Dead River, before he 
overtook us. He must have travelled very fast. We 
had got along thus far tolerable well, considering 
everything. We were very tired. We had only lost 
one man by death, but some were sick, and a few had 
deserted, after tasting of the dangers we had to meet, 
and the work we had to perform. I did n't like it 
much ; but there was no back-out in me. When I 
undertake to go anywhere, and do anything, I go 
through with it. So I resolved to brave it out, no 
matter what we might have to do. We mustered 
about nine hundred and fifty effective men, when we 
reached the Great Carrying-Place. We had passed 
four portages, or places where the boats had to be 
taken out of the water and carried a short distance 



64 THE CAMP-FIRE 

on land. Colonel Arnold reported that he had twenty- 
five days' provisions for the whole detachment ; and 
said he was pretty certain he could reach the Chau- 
diere River in eight or ten days." 

" I suppose this Great Carrying-Place was where 
you left the Kennebec and travelled overland. Was n't 
it?" asked Bob. 

" Yes ; there we were to leave the Kennebec, and 
transport all the batteaux, provisions, and baggage, 
on our shoulders, till we got to Dead River. The 
distance was about fifteen miles, and there was three 
small ponds to cross." 

" Phew !" exclaimed Bob. " What a job !" 

" Yes, you may well ' phew,' Bob," said the narrator. 
" You would have blowed a great deal more, if it had 
been your lot to have been with us. We took the 
boats out of the water, with all their contents, and 
shouldered them. The road we marched along was a 
sort of hilly and rough, for the whole three miles that 
we had to travel till we reached the first pond. I tell 
you, it made the sweat run, although the weather 
was beginning to get chilly. However, we got over 
it at last, and took a short rest while the boats were 
launched. I forgot to tell you, that we left a small 
party of carpenters near the banks of the Kennebec, 
to build a block-house for depositing provisions inj 
— some had been ordered up from Norridgewock, and 
they were intended as a supply, in case a retreat 



AT MOUNT INDEPENDENCE. 65 

should be necessary. Well, we crossed the pond, and 
marched on, carrying our boats and their contents, 
over rocks, and through creeks, and morasses, and 
deep ravines, till we reached Dead River. There is 
no use of telling you all that we endured in the 
march ; in fact, I could n't. When we reached Dead 
River, we were completely worn out, and I laid at 
length on the ground to rest, as most of the men did. 
At the second portage of the Great Carrying-Place, a 
block-house was built, where the sick were left. 
Some of the men had caught a great quantity of trout 
in the ponds we had crossed, and these made a splen- 
did feast for us. We had some oxen with us, which 
had been brought along to help carry some of the 
baggage, but were of very little use. Two of them 
were ordered to be killed, and the meat divided 
among the men. That was another delicious feast. 
Our hard work had earned it, though. We didn't 
stop there long. We thought we would have an easy 
time in moving along the smooth stream which was 
called the Dead River. It had a gentle current, with 
here and there a fall of short descent, at which were 
carrying-places. We moved quietly and slowly along, 
resting from our previous toil, when suddenly a lofty 
mountain appeared in the distance ; the summit 
whitened with snow. As we neared it, the river was 
observed to pursue a winding course near its base. 
There we stopped and encamped, near the base of the 
6* 



66 THE CA'MP-FIRE 

mountain, for two or three days. Then we had a 
good rest. Morgan's riflemen went forward ; while 
the third and fourth divisions had not yet arrived. 
Here it was that Colonel Arnold hoisted the American 
flag over his tent. Major Bigelow, who commanded 
a part of our division, took a small party and ascended 
the mountain, with the hope of seeing the hills of 
Canada^ or the spires of Quebec ; but he was disap- 
pointed, I believe. From this encampment, a party 
of ninety men was sent back to the rear for provi- 
sions, which were beginning to grow scarce, and then 
we moved on after Morgan. We had just got started 
again, when it commenced to rain ; and it continued 
to rain for three days. Every man, and all the bag- 
gage, was drenched with water. It must be remem- 
bered that the water was very chilly at that time of 
the year, and so far north." 

" I should think it was," remarked John. " It was 
in October ; was n't it ?" 

"Yes," replied Bill. "One night, after we had 
landed at a pretty late hour, and had just got fixed to 
take a little sleep, we were roused by a freshet. The 
water came rushing upon us in a torrent, and hardly 
allowed us time to get away, before the ground on 
which we had lain down was overflowed j and the 
water kept on rising. In nine hours, the river rose 
eight feet. Everything seemed to operate against us. 
The current became very rapid. The stream had 



AT MOUNT INDEPENDEiSrCE. 67 

spread itself over the low grounds, by its tremendous 
increase, and that exposed our boats to being all the 
time tangled in the drift-wood and bushes. Some- 
times we would get out of the main stream, into the 
smaller branches, in mistake, and then we would have 
to retrace our course ; and then again, we came across 
so many portages, that we got along very slow. At 
length a disaster happened that came near upsetting 
the whole expedition. The water was tumbling, and 
boiling, and rushing with such force, that seven of 
our boats were thrown over, and all their contents 
lost. This, of course, made such a breach in the 
quantity of our provisions, that the men began to get 
disheartened. It was ascertained that we were thirty 
miles from the head of the Chaudiere River. The 
provisions we had left would serve for twelve or 
fifteen days. Arnold called a council of war of all 
the oflScers that had come up so far, and they decided 
that the sick and the feeble should be sent back, and 
the others press forward. Accordingly, Arnold wrote 
to Colonel Enos, who was in the rear, and ordered 
him to select such a number of his strongest men as 
he could supply with fifteen days' provisions, and to 
come on with them, leaving the others to return to 
Norridgewock. We learned afterwards that Enos had 
retreated with his whole division, consisting of three 
companies. Why he done it, I can't say, unless he 
misunderstood the order of Colonel Arnold." 



68 THE CAMP-FIRE 

" Did he return to Norridgewock with his men ?" 
enquired Bob. 

" To Norridgewock ! He retreated all the way 
back to Cambridge. It 's my private opinion that he 
did n't want to understand the order. I heard he was 
tried by a court-martial, soon after his return ; but 
not having the true state of the case from Arnold, at 
the time of the trial, he was acquitted on the ground 
of a want of provisions. After the order was de- 
spatched to Colonel Enos, Arnold chose sixty men, 
the command being given to Colonel Hanchet; in- 
tending to proceed as soon as possible to the inhabit- 
ants on the Chaudiere, and send back provisions to 
the main forces. The rain changed into snow — the 
first we had met with. All our former sufferings 
were as nothing, compared with what we began to 
endure then. Cold and hunger attacked us at the 
same time. Ice formed on the water through which 
we were obliged to drag our boats. Finally, we 
reached the highlands that separate the eastern 
waters from those of the St. Lawrence. How we 
done it, I can't give you an idea. Near the sources 
of the Dead River, we had to pass through a string 
of small lakes, choked with logs and other things. 
We had met with seventeen falls in the whole dis- 
tance of the Dead River, around which were portages, 
and had lost a number of our boats. The carrying- 
place over the highlands was a little more than four 



AT MOUNT INDEPENDENCE. 69 

miles ; but as small as the distance was, the men of 
our division were so worn-out with their toil, that 
they found it a terrible piece of work. We reached 
a small stream, at last, that led us by a very crooked 
course into Lake Megantic, which is the source of the 
Chaudiere River." 

" How many was in your party, then ?" enquired 
Bob. 

" I do n't know exactly how many there was," an- 
swered Bill. " We had three companies in our divi- 
sion. Morgan's riflemen were just ahead of us, and 
Meigs' four companies a short distance behind. Ar- 
nold's party of sixty men had gone far ahead of us. 
You must recollect that the whole party were on 
short allowance of provisions all the time since we 
left the encampment. Lake Megantic is thirteen 
miles long and about four broad, and is surrounded by 
high mountains. I think it was the night after we 
got into it, we encamped on the eastern bank, where 
there was a large Indian wigwam. I was one of the 
lucky ones that got under its cover, and I had a tole- 
rable night's rest — a rare thing since I left home. 
The next morning we went on ; a portion by land, on 
account of the loss of their boats. Well, our provi- 
sions were getting less and less every day, and the 
men getting weaker. When we reached the Chau- 
diere River, we had still about a hundred miles to 
travel before there was any provisions to be obtained. 



70 THE CAMP-FIRE 

There we shared the last of our stock, and it only 
gave four pints of flour to a man. Most of the boats 
we had left were leaky, and did n't promise to hold 
out much longer. It was n't intended that they 
should ; for we had no sooner entered the Chaudiere 
River, than we encountered the greatest kind of dan- 
gers. The bottom was rocky, and falls and rapids 
were plenty. We had just reached a rapid, where 
we discovered the wreck of some boats that had been 
dashed to pieces, it appeared, by the violence of the 
rushing of the water over the rocks, and were won- 
dering what had become of the advance-party, when, 
from bad management, or some other cause, most of 
our boats were upset, and met the same fate as the 
ones w^e had seen. The men that were in them, we 
rescued with a great deal of trouble ; but most of the 
baggage was carried away by the rapid water. Then 
we all had to take to the toils of the land. Through 
woods so thick with underwood that we had to cut 
our way, sometimes for five miles at a time ; through 
swamps, where we sank into the mud almost up to 
the waist ; over rocks and crags that cut our feet, we 
toiled for the rest of the distance we had to travel. 
Morgan, and Greene, and Meigs, and Bigelow, worked 
as hard as the rest of the men, and kept cheering us 
on all the time, by telling us about the glory we 
would acquire by our march through the wilderness ; 
and showing us that we could n't be very far from a 



AT MOUNT INDEPENDENCE. 71 

settlement. I do n't know what the rest thought, but 
I had an idea that if glory was to be purchased at 
such a rate as that, it might stay in the market alto- 
gether, for what I eared. Well, we made slow pro- 
gress, and at length our provisions gave out entirely. 
Then we suffered awfully. I had a pair of moose-skin 
moccasins, that I got from an Indian that was with 
the party; and — it's a fact, I did do it — I actually 
boiled them, to see if I could get any nourishment 
from them ! Some of the men done the same with 
their cartridge-boxes. All the dogs that were with 
the army were killed ; and that reminds me of a 
little incident. I had a friend among the company I 
was with, by the name of Joe Harwood. You might 
have heard of Joe. He was a tall, slim fellow — 
at least he was slim then. He had light hair and 
blue eyes." 

The listeners all professed an ignorance of an indi- 
vidual of that name, though each one knew a tall, 
slim fellow, with light hair and blue eyes. 

" Well," continued Bill, " he was as clever a fellow 
as I ever knew. Joe had a fine spaniel dog, that had 
been with him during the whole journey. The dog 
was attached to him, and Joe thought a good deal of 
it. When he would lay down of a night to sleep in 
the woods, that dog would keep watch over him till 
he awoke. He was always at his side ; and when the 
boats had been dashed to pieces on the rocks in the 



72 THE CAMP-FIRE 

Chaudiere River, he done more than any of the men, 
to get Joe out of the water. Well, Joe was almost 
starving. All the dogs that had been brought with 
us had been killed but Jock ; that was the name he 
called the dog. Joe could n't think of killing Jock. 
It seemed almost like stabbing himself; but he had 
nothing to eat. The dog might die, perhaps, and he 
might die, too. I told him that he had better kill the 
dog, or it would starve to death. At last, when Joe 
had got so weak that he could n't stand it any longer, 
he determined to shoot Jock. He tied him to a tree ; 
the dog playing with him, as if he was going to have 
some sport. Then Joe went about ten yards from the 
tree, and raised his gun to shoot ; but j ust then the 
dog looked at him in such a way, that Joe dropped 
his gun, and told me that I would have to do it — he 
could n't. He went up to the dog, and patted him on 
the head. I took the gun, and as Joe turned away 
from Jock, and the dog was looking at him, I shot 
him through the head, and he dropped dead without 
a struggle. Joe walked away, with the tears trickling 
down his hollow cheek, as if he had lost a child." 

" It 's a desperate hard thing to treat a dog in that 
way, after you 've got to likin' him," said one of the 
men. " I know from tryin' it." 

" Well, I suppose you eat the dog ; did n't you ?" 
enquired Bob. " If you saved your own lives, the 
dog's was of little account." 



AT MOUNT INDEPENDENCE. 73 

" Yes, we did eat the dog ; and that is what Joe 
and I lived on for the rest of the march. We had 
got split up into small parties in going through tlie 
woods. The one I was with was the farthest one 
ahead. I think it was in the afternoon of a very cold 
day, we were working our way slowly through the 
woods near the river, when we came in sight of a 
party of Canadians and Indians, who were resting 
themselves in an open space in the woods. We 
pressed on joyfully to them, and they turned out to 
be a party that Arnold had sent back to us with Hour 
and some cattle. You never saw such an overjoyed 
set of men in your life as ours were. They were so 
glad to get something to eat, that they hugged each 
other. One by one the parties came up, and received 
some provisions ; and then, having refreshed ourselves, 
we pushed on with vigor. As much as we rejoiced 
at our relief, we rejoiced still more when we caught 
sight of houses where human beings lived. We came 
out of the woods in small parties at a time, and the 
inhabitants received us well. At first they were 
struck with astonishment to see men who had per- 
formed such a march through a wilderness where a 
white man's foot had scarcely trod. They reported 
strange stories about us. Some said that we were 
cased in iron, and that we had great power of body. 
Others, that there was about twice as many of us as 
there really was. They all treated us kindly. Some 
7 



74 THE CAMP-FIRE 

of the men had worn-out their clothes to rags ; and 
these the Canadians clothed. The sick they attended 
with great care. In fact, we could n't have received 
better treatment if we had been at home." 

" How long did the march through the wilderness 
require ?" asked Bob. 

*'We left Newburyport, in the transports, on the 
18th of September, and arrived at the first Canadian 
settlement on the 4th of November. Arnold had 
arrived on the 30th of October," replied Bill, after a 
short pause. 

" Had you lost many of the party, besides Enos*s 
division ?" enquired John. 

" I do n't know what the return was just after we 
finished our march ; but I know that, a short time 
afterwards, six hundred and seventy-five men was all 
we could muster." 

" That was a large decrease," said Bob. " You 
started from Cambridge with an army of more than 
a thousand men, I understood." 

" Yes ; but Enos is responsible for about half of 
the missing ones. The rest either died from fatigue 
and exposure, or deserted in the early part of our 
march," was the reply. 

"Well, it must be getting late," remarked Bob. 
"We'll hear more about this invasion some other 
time ; won't we, Bill ?" 

" Yes, when some of the rest of you do your share 



AT MOUNT INDEPENDENCE. 75 

of the talking," replied Bill ; " I 'm so tired that I 
shall have to stop." 

" We won't talk any more to-night, anyhow," said 
John. " I'm going to try to sleep to-night. We 've 
been in continual alarm for the last two or three 
weeks ; and now we can rest quietly." 

" I 'm with you," was the reply ; and, one after an- 
other, the men sought their beds of straw. A blanket 
was the covering, and a knapsack the pillow, for each. 
The fire blazed cheerfully on the hearth, shedding its 
comforting influence upon the scene ; and it did not 
require many moments to close the eyelids of the 
men, and " steep their senses in forgetfulness." 



THE CAMP-FIRE AT LONG ISLAND. 

Night had settled around the plains and the rugged 
hills of Long Island. It was the evening which pre- 
ceded the disastrous battle of August 27th, 1776 ; 
and both armies, having lighted their fires, seemed to 
be holding their breath in anticipation of the morrow. 
The hills were dotted with watch-fires ; and many an 
eye, which had flashed wildly when the tocsin of 
liberty pealed first at Concord, or when in fierce strife 
it met that of an enemy, looked sadly on the flames, 
as they slowly curled upward. Scarce a whisper 
disturbed the quiet of that calm and beautiful summer 
night. 

Suddenly, a soldier issued from a pass between 
some hills, and advanced toward one of the tents. 
He was a young man, dressed as an ordinary soldier, 
and carrying a musket over his shoulder. 

" Stand !" exclaimed a sentinel The young man 
stopped and gave a pass-word. 

" Your passport," demanded the inexorable watcher. 

"And why a passport?" the young soldier enquired. 
4 OG) 




THE SEN '1' 1 N E L. 



THE CAMP-FIRE AT LONG ISLAND. 77 

" I 've given you the word by which I passed all the 
sentinels behind me." 

" I have just received the old man's orders, and the 
other sentinels will receive them also. Israel must 
be obeyed." 

The soldier stood for a moment, as though lost in 
astonishment. Then striking his forehead with one 
hand, he exclaimed with energy, — 

" I must see General Putnam !" 

The sentinel lowered his gun. 

"I must — I must see the general. I have inform- 
ation of the first importance to our cause, and which 
no one can deliver but myself — Is there no exception 
to your orders ?" 

" None," was the reply ; " not for the old man him- 
self, if he should come along. So, sir, you are my 
prisoner." 

" Take me prisoner — but take me to the general." 

" You must go to quarters ; he cannot be seen," 
was the reply. 

A strange variety of emotions were visible on the 
soldier's countenance, as he grounded his musket, to 
save his life. But scarcely had the sentinel advanced 
to seize him, when a horseman rode through the pass 
as fast as his jaded horse could gallop. 

" Is private Smith here ?" he demanded, on reach- 
ing the sentinel. 

" I am he," replied the young man, turning round, 



78 THE CA*MP-FIRE 

and facing the officer. He was immediately recog- 
nized. 

" Here is a passport, to carry you to General Put- 
nam, It should have been given you before — lose 
no time." 

The young soldier bowed and passed on. He 
reach ;. ! the general's tent, and delivered to him, — 
partly in writing, partly in words, — a message from 
General Greene. 

" That pass !" exclaimed Putnam, springing from 
his seat. " ! that Greene was here to direct us !" 

Orders were immediately issued to examine the 
Jamaica road ; and all who could be spared from other 
points were directed to be stationed there. But the 
order was too late. The officers were mostly unac- 
quainted with the ground ; and, amid the jDcrplexities 
of a night march over an unknown territory, so much 
time was lost, that even on the following morning the 
pass had not been guarded. 

For a short time after delivering his message, 
young Smith had remained in the general's tent. The 
road by which he came was both difficult and dan- 
gerous ; and he gladly accepted Putnam's offer, to 
remain in that part of the camp. Within the tent 
near which he had been stopped by the sentinel, he 
had observed two or three faces which seemed familiar 
to him ; and he requested and obtained permission to 
quarter there during the night. 



AT LONG ISLAND. 79 

A scene of hearty joy ensued on his arrival there. 
Two of the men within the tent, had passed with him 
through many of the trying scenes in Boston, which 
preceded the battle of Lexington. Their names were 
Wilson and Hanna. They had joined the provincial 
army soon after that event ; but their young friend 
Smith, unable to leave Boston without being suspected 
and seized, remained there during the siege. Another 
soldier, named Rollin, had seen Smith on that joyous 
occasion, when the army of Washington, having 
driven Lord Howe from the city, marched triumph- 
antly into it. Two others within the tent he did not 
know. 

" Smith !" exclaimed the three friends, springing to 
their feet, and grasping his hand. 

"Let me sit down, lads," were his first words. 
" I 've been travelling all this hot day, since before 
sunrise, and feel as if I had lost twenty pounds of 
flesh." 

"But where have you been so long?" enquired 
Hanna. " Why, we used to see you every day." 

" I have been with General Greene," was the an- 
swer. 

" And will he lead us, in the coming battle ?" 

" No, he will not. He 's down with a fever, and 
can't lift hand or foot. We '11 miss him, boys, depend 
upon it, when the fighting comes to be done." 

" I 'm not afraid, when Israel 's about," said Wilson, 



80 THE GAMP-FIRE 

" Nor I, either," added a companion. 

" It 's no difiference who commands," Smith replied. 
" if he don't know what the ground 's like that he 's 
fighting on. His excellency himself could n't gain a 
battle, unless he knew something of the kind before- 
hand. And let me tell you, lads, General Greene 
is the only man that has the proper knowledge of 
it." 

"Well, I'm tired of this war," remarked a man 
named Pierce. "I wish Lord North and the other 
lords had gone to smash before they passed the stamp 
act. Here we 've been quarrelling six or seven years, 
and at last got to blows, without the least good to 
either party. Why can't they let us have our homes, 
and our little property, in peace, instead of murdering 
and destroying all before them ?" 

" We do n't want peace !" exclaimed Kollin, sharply. 
" Peace ! who 'd be a subject of King George again, 
and call him, 'gracious majesty,' and 'kind majesty,' 
and ' most serene highness,' when we know he 'd cut 
the throat of every mother's son among us, if he only 
had the chance, and the knives. I go by the decla- 
ration of our Congress — and may God help them to 
keep it ! They know more than I do of these things ; 
for some of them have read all kinds of history, be- 
sides other books ; and this makes them know how to 
talk in the right style. Did n't they say all people 
are free when they are born, and that one 's as good 



AT LONG ISLAND. 81 

as another ? I do n't recollect the words exactly, but 
that 's something like it." 

"That's it!" exclaimed Hanna. "And they said 
also that George III. is a tyrant; which I believe 
with all my heart." 

" Who cares for his property," resumed Rollin, " if 
we can get our freedom ? That 's what we 're fighting 
for now, and we must fight it out. Any man that 
don't come up to the scratch, oughtn't to be free. 
And, let me tell you, there are boys in this camp that 
never will be under a king again, unless it be his ex- 
cellency. They'll live among the Indians first — 
yes, they'd rather stand still and be chopped to 
pieces. What good did ever King George do us ? — 
that's what I want to know. He got our money, and 
made us fight the French, and left his armies here to 
be fed, and made us pay for his quarrels, and then 
called us '^ rebels !' And all the time, we, like poor 
fools, as we were, kept saying, * gracious majesty, 
gracious majesty, ! how gracious !' But, boys, even 
kittens get their eyes open at last ; and all honor to 
the wise men in Congress, we 've got ours opened — I 
go for the Declaration !" 

" So do I !" exclaimed Smith. " Stick to it, lads, 
forever ! I wish we had had a Declaration when the 
red-coats left Boston. That was the time to give it 
to them ; but you see our hands were tied, because 
we were subjects, and so they slipped away." 

F 



82 THE CAMP-FIRE 

"Were you in Boston all the time the siege 
lasted ?" asked Wilson. 

" Yes ; and many a hard scene the people passed 
through. We did n't care so much for ourselves, as 
for the women and little children. Some of them 
suffered enough last winter; for many families had 
been robbed of their money and other articles, after 
the battle of Bunker Hill." 

" Let 's hear something about it," said Hanna. 

" I can't tell you more about the battle than you 
know yourselves," replied the young soldier. " It 
was a busy day, however, in Boston, and the whole 
town looked like a beehive. I got on old Neddy In- 
gle's roof; but I could see nothing but the hill where 
the fort was, on account of the crowds that covered 
the houses before me, and on all sides. They clung 
to each other in bunches; and every window was 
filled with heads. At last, I climbed to the top of a 
chimney. The red-coats were just marching up the 
hill ; and then, boys, you ought to have seen the pale 
faces around me, and how the poor women clasped 
their hands, and looked up to Heaven, with trembling 
lips, and sometimes with short prayers. There were 
some handsome young girls among them, too ; but I 
hadn't time to look at them, only now and then. 
Every eye was on the red-coats ; and when they got 
quite near, so that they seemed only two or three 
steps off, I began to think all was over. Ah, boys, it 



AT LONG ISLAND. 83 

would have looked bad to give up the fort without 
fighting, after all that had been done at Lexington." 

" But they did n't, though," interrupted a voice. 

"No, indeed," resumed Smith; "but a good many- 
thought so, besides myself You remember Passy, 
Joe?" 

" The old, cross, ugly man, with a flat, round nose, 
who swears so ?" enquired Hanna. 

" Yes, he. He 's a bad sort of a man, but a firm 
patriot. When he saw, as he thought, that the 
Americans were afraid to fight, he broke out all at 
once with such a mouthful of curses, as frightened 
everybody. Some tried to stop him; but he swore 
worse at them, and nearly pushed Mrs. Johnson's 
Sally off the roof If she had fallen, half a dozen, at 
least, would have gone with her. She began to cry ; 
and as all hearts were full, we soon had tears enough. 
The girls wrung their hands, and some of the men 
hid their faces, saying that all was over. But just as 
I was hallooing to Passy, to ask him if he wasn't 
ashamed of himself, the little fort broke out in the 
right way. Every one was on tiptoe. ' The battle 's 
begun!' shouted the men, in all directions. Sure 
enough, it had begun. The red-coats poured out 
their fire, covering themselves in clouds of smoke, 
and hiding our fort ; and at the same moment, all the 
ships in the harbor vomited out fire and death, till 
the houses in town seemed to be shaking to pieces. 



84 THE CA*MP-FIRE 

You may guess how anxiously we looked till the 
smoke should clear away; for nobody doubted that 
the fort would be knocked off the hill like a football. 
In a few minutes we saw the legs, and then the 
bodies of the red-coats, pushing out of the smoke, and 
running down the hill as if they 'd break their necks. 
^ What 's the matter with my eyes, children ?' ex- 
claimed Deacon Wadloe ; for he did n't dream, nor 
anybody else, that the British were really flying. 
But he had hardly cleaned his spectacles, and put 
them on again, when the smoke was blown away, and 
we saw what the matter was. Then there were more 
tears ; but they were tears of joy. Then the girls 
hugged each other, and the men stamped, and the old 
women clapped their hands, till I expected they would 
tumble headforemost into the street. At first we 
didn't hurrah, for fear of the officers; but Sammy 
Cropp grabbed his son Bill by the shoulder, and 
shouted, 'Hurrah, my boy — hurrah for America, if 
you 're shot for it !" Bill roared out like a thunder- 
clap ; and the way that all on the roof joined him, 
was a lesson to tories. 

** Pretty soon, up comes three officers, through the 
trap-door. They wanted to know what the rebel 
noise meant. Charley Cannon made answer, that he 
hadn't heard any rebel noise, nor any loyal one 
either. The nearest officer swore an oath that made 
even Passy shudder, and drew his sword to run 



AT LONG ISLAND. 85 

Cannon through ; but he could n't get at him, for the 
crowd of women. One or two begged Charley to be 
quiet; but he swore that if they'd clear the roof, 
he 'd fight all three with his fists. The officers or- 
dered him to surrender ; but as he knew very well 
what would be done with him if he complied, he only 
folded his arms and looked at the officers. ^ Never 
surrender, Charley,' two or three whispered. 'I 
do n't intend to,' was his answer. ' Look here, Mr. 
Officer : you 're dressed in a nice clean suit, and got a 
very fine long sword of your own ; but I '11 just tell 
you, on the part of Charley Cannon, you can't do 
everything. I don't like to brag; but I'll just say 
of myself, I'm no rebel. And I'll just say again, 
that you can't frighten me with your sword, if it ain't 
rusty. And, p'r'aps, I may as well add, that if either 
of you lays a finger on me, he '11 go over this banister 
into the street, quicker than they are flying over 
there, down Breed's Hill !' " 

" Good !" ejaculated Hanna. " That was the right 
way to make speeches." 

" It was, indeed. And the way the men crowded 
round to help him, was the right way, too. For you 
see, boys, we thought that if our friends could whip 
an army on a hill, we might easily whip three officers 
on the roof of a house. But just then three more 
officers came up ; and there would have been serious 
work, if an order had n't soon after arrived, for them 



86 THE CAMP-FIRE 

to repair with all haste to their commands. Then 
we gave three cheers for Charley Cannon ; but as his 
foe had now fled, we thought it best that he should 
go off the roof, lest the red-coats would tell, and have 
him arrested. He would n't go, though ; and, pretty 
soon afterwards, orders came from one of the British 
generals, to clear the roof; so we had to get down 
without seeing the end of the battle. We listened, 
between hope and fear, to the firing, when it began 
again; and a good many ran through the town, in 
spite of the soldiers, and hid themselves near the 
harbor, where they could see all. You know, boys, 
how the battle ended ; so I need n't say anything 
further about that. In the afternoon, the wounded 
were brought over in boats ; and a long string of 
wagons and carriages took them up to head-quarters. 
Jake White and I were peeping from behind a pile of 
logs in the old board-yard, trying to count them as 
they passed. But there seemed to be no end ; and so 
at last we stopped. Jake was so pleased, that I could 
scarcely keep him from screaming out ; but it seemed 
to me a hard thing to see so many men, who wer-e 
well enough in the morning, hacked and bruised ; — 
some with their arms or legs off, some shot in the 
head, others just dying. I was n't used to such sights 
then, and that one made me feel very uneasy for a 
good many days. 

"After the battle, the British officers treated us 



AT LONG ISLAND. 87 

worse than ever, and would n't allow our men to go 
out of the city without being examined. Every day, 
they searched the houses for arms. If any were 
found in a house, they had the family examined be- 
fore a board appointed by Gage; and if none was 
found, they abused the people, and called them 
* rebels.' At night, they patrolled the streets; and 
when they caught any poor fellow out, locked him up 
in the barracks. Once or twice, Doctor Griffin was 
taken ; but the general let him go, when he told who 
he was." 

" How could you live in such a place ?" enquired 
one of the soldiers. 

" It was hard living enough," Smith replied ; " but 
let me tell you, boys, it was still harder work to get 
out of the town. Besides the red-coats, there were 
more tories than a few, watching us ; and they had 
eyes behind as well as before. The scoundrels knew 
that we 'd have no mercy on them, if once they were 
in our hands ; so they worked mischief on us, day 
and night. And, to be more particular, lads, for I 'm 
not ashamed of it, I had determined never to leave 
Boston while Caddy Lowell was there. I won't say 
much about her now, boys, — she used to talk to me 
of Heaven, and call it her home ; and sometimes she 
wished to be an angel, so that I could only be with 
her. I didn't care much about such things then, 
though I believed them all, and liked to listen, be- 



88 THE CAMP-FIRE 

cause it was Caddy that spoke. But I 've thought a 
good deal about them since, though I am a soldier ; 
and I believe she 's happier to-night, than if she had 
lived to see the evil that 's come on her country. She 
was a sweet girl, lads," continued the young man, as 
his voice sank to a whisper, and he seemed to be 
musing on some pleasant vision of the past. 

"And why didn't you try to escape, and take her 
along with you ?" enquired Wilson. 

" So I did," he answered ; " but I was pursued and 
arrested. Heaven will yet blast the cursed red-coats 
for it. I believe I would have escaped in spite of 
them, if it had n't been for that sneaking old Quaker, 
Jacob Browne." 

"I knew him," remarked Hanna. "He's a bad 
man." 

" He 's a villain !" rejoined Smith. " He wanted 
to get Caddy for his son Ben, because he knew her 
uncle had property, which would be hers at his death. 
But she sent the young, long-faced, tory hypocrite, 
about his business ; and, from that day forward, he 
and his revengeful father kept their eyes on me. One 
day, Caddy heard them talking together about me ; 
and says the old fellow to the young rogue, ' Thee 
knows, Benjamin, there are more days to pay the 
debt thou owest him, than the day of judgment.' 
When she told me, in the evening, my blood boiled 
right up ; but she made me be quiet, and sit down by 



AT LONG ISLAND. 89 

her ; and then we agreed to attempt an escape. Poor 
girl ! it was me she cared about most. Sometimes I 
think it would have been better if she had stayed." 

" But let 's hear about it," said Hanna. 

" Well, you see, lads, that was on a Friday. The 
weather was pretty cool, for the sun had crossed the 
line about a week before ; and if we put the matter 
off much longer, winter would be upon us. So I told 
Caddy I 'd be at her house on the next Tuesday after- 
noon, and we could walk to Peter Gamble's house, 
and stay till about ten o'clock, when we 'd start away, 
pretending to go home, but really for the purpose of 
pushing over the Neck, toward Roxbury. There was 
an old widow lady living in the frame-house just out- 
side the Neck; and with her I thought we might hide 
till we could pursue our journey without danger. It 
was a desperate chance, and neither of us thought of 
much else till Tuesday came. At two o'clock I was 
at Caddy's. She had hid all her jewels, and some 
other little notions that her parents gave her before 
they died, about her person, in such a manner that 
they could n't be found. She was as merry as a bee, 
and told me that we were going out of the land of 
bondage, as Moses, I think she said, did with his 
family. As for myself, I felt a little solemn, though 
I tried to laugh, and keep down the thoughts that 
would come up. We went through the garden gate, 
and round the little white fence, where the rose-bushes 



90 THE CA^P-FIRE 

used to grow, so that Browne would n't see us. But 
we hadn't gone a rod, before he came sneaking into 
the lane by a by-path, right opposite to us ; and no 
sooner had he set his eye on Caddy, than he pushed 
up his green spec's, kind of made a halt, and looked 
right at her. We pretended not to mind him ; but 
we could see his head beginning to jerk sideways, as 
it does when he's in trouble. Says Caddy, when we 
got a little further down, ^ That sight will do us no 
good.' I told her it would n't ; and soon afterwards 
we struck into another street. We reached Gamble's 
house without being seen by the soldiers. After we 
had eaten supper, says I, ' Pete, how late can a fellow 
travel with his girl, down here, without being nabbed 
by the red-coats ?' ' Till sundown,' says he ; and to- 
night you had better be exact in the time, for a whole 
company are going to reconnoitre, near the Neck, 
about nine o'clock to-night.' This made me feel 
pretty blue; and turning to Caddy, I told her we 
must be going. Peter wanted us to stay all night, for 
he was n't in the secret; but, says I, ' We can't.' It was 
near sundown then ; and as soon as we had turned 
the next corner above, we turned back again behind 
Pete's house, and then pushed for Mrs. Hoover's. 
We got along pretty smoothly for awhile, till it began 
to grow black, and we heard thunder in the distance. 
Then says I, ^ Caddy, shall we go back?' but she 
would n't listen to it. We ran as fast as we could ; 



AT LONG ISLAND. 91 

and I knew we could n't be very far from the frame- 
house, but could n't see a thing before me. By and 
by, my foot struck the root of a tree, and down I 
went. Caddy did n't cry, as other girls would have 
done ; for she could stand a great deal more than some 
men can, though she was so quiet and gentle. I was 
up in no time ; but on feeling round me, I found we 
had lost the road. It was now time to stop ; for if 
we ran on, we might plunge into the bay. When the 
lightning began to flash, we saw some tall trees before 
us, and a sort of ditch, that seemed to me, as well as 
I could guess, to have been ploughed up by a cannon- 
ball. That sight made me feel queer; and says I, 
*Dear Caddy, I wish I hadn't brought you here.' 
She asked me if I was afraid ; and that made me 
ashamed of myself. I resolved, therefore, to take the 
worst. By and by, the rain came down like rivers ; 
there we were, clinging to each other, drenched 
through, and afraid to stir one way or another. I 
threw my coat over Caddy, knowing she was cold; 
and she leaned her head on my shoulder, without 
speaking a word, till the first storm-clouds had blown 
over." 

"And did you leave her there?" asked one of the 
men. 

"Leave her!" ejaculated Smith. "What do you 
mean ?" 

" I merely asked," was the reply. 



92 THE CAMP-FIRE 

" I did n't leave her," said Smith, solemnly. " No 
man that has a heart, could leave so gentle a girl, in 
such a storm, for a minute." 

" But how did you get off?" 

"I was just going to tell you. After the first 
shower, it grew a little lighter ; so that we picked our 
steps pretty well, till we came to a fence which looked 
as if it had just been set up. Thinks I, ' If we follow 
this, it may lead us to the road ;' and so I walked 
along, feeling the rails with one hand, and leading 
Caddy with the other. But her thin shoes stuck so 
in the mud, that I had to lift her at every three or 
four steps ; and, at last, I fairly carried her. But no 
sooner had we reached the end of the fence, than I 
saw the old tall poplar-tree, where the schoolboys 
used to shoot squirrels, on Saturday afternoons ; and 
I knew right away that the road was near. Caddy's 
ear was quicker than mine. She heard horses' foot- 
steps in the road, and told me to stand close to her ; 
because, if we were seen, I would not be fired at, for 
fear of shooting her. After listening a little while, 
we heard wheels ; and then some one singing a psalm. 
Says I, ^ That 's no soldier.' When he got nearer, it 
seemed as though I knew his "voice ; for it sounded 
like Jeremiah Longacre's, who came to town on busi- 
ness every week, and went back again under a permit 
from Gage. Sure enough, it was he. I called him 
by name, and he stopped. When he saw what a con- 



AT LONG ISLAND. 93 

dition we were in, he held up both hands in astonish- 
ment, telling us he never heard of such rashness. 
There was n't room for us both in his little wagon ; 
so, after wrapping up Caddy pretty warm, I put on 
my coat, and got on the horse. I thought we were 
safe at last ; but the red-coats were on the track ; and, 
before long, we heard them coming down the road at 
full gallop. I wanted to set the horse a-going with 
all his might ; but Mr. Longacre told me it was of no 
use. We kept, therefore, on the old trot; and the 
British were soon up with us. The officers knew the 
wagon, and I believe would have passed on, if I 
had n't been sitting on the horse. Seeing me, they 
turned short round, and ordered a halt. Mr. Long- 
acre showed his permit ; but it would n't do. They 
knew that he had gone from town alone, and de- 
manded how I came there. He told them he had 
found me lost on the road ; and, after a good deal of 
parleying, one of the horsemen ordered me to get be- 
hind him, on his horse ; saying that I must be taken 
before Gage, and go through an examination. 

"All this time, Caddy hadn't spoken a word, nor 
had they seen her. But when she found that I was 
to be taken back, she began to wring her hands, and 
beg the men to let me go. Then I gave up all for 
lost ; for I trembled at the thought of these British 
soldiers finding her in that place. They all started 
to hear a girl's voice; and one of them told Mr. 



94 THE CAMP-FIRE 

Longacre that things began to look serious for him. 
The old gentleman replied, that he hoped soldiers had 
too much honor to lay hands on a young girl who had 
been lost on the road. Some began to laugh ; others 
whispered that it was a good joke; now and then, 
one leaned over his horse's head, and peeped into the 
wagon. They told her, in shocking language, that 
she should go with me, while they would gallant us 
to Boston. One of them was making preparations to 
seat her before him on his horse j but another officer, 
that I had not seen before, rode up, and asked what 
the fuss was about. When he found out, he asked 
them if they were n't ashamed of themselves ; swear- 
ing, at the same time, that he 'd shoot the first man 
who laid a finger on her. One of them began some 
shines; but the other, drawing a pistol, jammed it 
against his breast, and told him to be quiet. He was 
the only honorable officer that ever I saw with a red 
coat on ; and I believe he was sent there by Heaven 
that night, for poor Caddy's sake. But when Mr. 
Longacre asked that I should be released, he would n't 
consent ; and so I was sent back to town." 

" But what become of her ?" enquired Hanna. 

" You '11 hear soon enough, boys. When we parted, 
I pressed her hand in mine, but I couldn't speak. 
* ! I '11 go with you now,' she whispered ; but Mr. 
Longacre told her we 'd meet again in better times. 

" ^ You '11 not forget me, Henry ?' she said, still 



AT LONG ISLAND. 95 

holding my hand. I had just said ^ Never,' when the 
spiteful red-coat started his horse, so that I came near 
falling backward. I turned round; but could only 
see Caddy's hand waving good-bye Before morning, 
I was safe enough in Boston." 

" Not in limbo ?" enquired Rollin. 

" Yes," was the answer. " At ten o'clock, I was 
brought before the ' Court of Inquiry,' I believe they 
called it ; and who should be there but Browne and 
his son ! They could n't prove anything ; for I had 
no property about me, and was no spy ; but I got a 
sentence of six weeks." 

" I 'd like to have hold of the judge !" exclaimed 
one of the hearers. 

"And I, of the gaoler," added another. 

"Well, boys," said Wilson, half musing; "how 
much we have suffered for freedom, when one only 
comes to look at it ! It 's a glorious thing, that Decla- 
ration !" 

While this and similar expressions were uttered by 
all, each drew out his canteen and indulged in a 
hearty draught, preparatory to listening to the re- 
mainder of the young soldier's story. All was atten- 
tion, when he re-commenced : — 

" I was ' pardoned,' as they call it, in about four 
weeks ; and went home with strict orders never to 
attempt an escape again, if I valued my neck. It 
was a hard thing to be kept in prison by red-coats ; 



96 THE CAMP-FIRE 

but I learned a good deal about them while I was 
there. Sometimes they moved me from one place to 
another ; when I kept both eyes open to see all that 
could be seen. Often, too, I heard the sentinels, or 
some of the soldiers, talking together about their 
affairs. They said they were tired of fighting with 
Britons like themselves, and wished King George 
would make better laws, so as not to make people pay 
taxes when they did n't want to. They were so short 
of provisions, that it was said they had to eat horse- 
flesh ; and they had no wood to burn, except what 
they got by tearing down frame buildings, or stealing 
pews and pulpits from churches ! All the lumber 
belonging to our people, that they could lay hands on, 
was seized. Some ships were also sent out to get 
provisions from the southern colonies; but I never 
heard what became of them. The soldiers were busy 
building forts, which they made strong enough • but 
they were afraid to venture out of the town, because 
they thought that General Washington, with his great 
army, would cut them to pieces. When their provi- 
sions were nearly out, and most of them were on the 
shortest allowance, a supply arrived from England. 
You ought to have seen the courageous red-coats, 
down at the harbor, when the vessels arrived. Such 
kicking, and stamping, and hurraing, — all because 
they had got something to eat ! Then they marched 
pigs, sheep, oxen, and cows, up to head-quarters ; the 



AT LONG ISLAND. 97 

officers going before with drawn swords, to kill the 
first rebel that touched one of their cattle ; and a 
company of soldiers behind, with long guns and bay- 
onets, smacking their lips and grinning clear across 
their faces. One flock after another was marched 
along, and then came wagon-loads of pork, ham, and 
vegetables. We had n't a chance to get any, though 
we tried hard enough ; but John Baylis and Charley 
Clifford lamed a good many sheep, by throwing stones 
at them from behind houses." 

" They are better at eating than at fighting," Wil- 
son muttered. 

" Some time before this," continued Smith, " Gene- 
ral Howe had been sent over to take command. He 
was a good deal better liked than ever Gage was ; but 
he called us ' rebels,' and that was what we could n't 
stand. 

"At last, winter set in, in earnest; and I never 
want to see another like it. So many people had 
been turned out of doors by the soldiers, that three 
or four families lived in one house. Some had no 
wood, and had to chop up old benches, chairs, and 
such things, to keep themselves warm. Every morn- 
ing, little children ran along the wharves with bas- 
kets, looking for pieces of bark and chips. When 
snow was on the ground, they would dig it up with 
their hands. They who had money, gave all they 
could spare to the poor ; but it was such hard work 
9 



98 THE CAMP-FIRE 

to get provisions, that some of us did n't taste any- 
thing but barley-water for two or three days. When 
we managed to get flour, we boiled a little of it in 
water, with small bits of meat, to make it last longer. 
But many a one went hungry all day, or had to be 
satisfied with a few raw turnips, or a crust of bread. 
All this time, the tories laughed at us fools and rebels, 
and fattened themselves on the best that the British 
camp could afford. 

" But this was n't all we suffered. One day, I saw 
Dr. Nott talking to some man very seriously, and 
knew something was the matter ; for, of all men, the 
Doctor is the merriest. Thinks I, 'More red-coats 
have come over ;' but I was mistaken. In a few days, 
it was rumored that the small-pox was in town. 
Then it was that people began to look pale, and to 
crowd to General Howe for permits to leave town. 
Sometimes they ran in crowds, to hear what the doc- 
tors said ; and sometimes a man would hardly speak 
to his own brother, in the street, lest he might catch 
the pestilence. When any one was taken sick, his 
friends said, right away, that he had the small-pox ; 
and began to wring their hands and cry out. And 
so, when it did begin to rage, the people were so 
frightened, that one could hardly help another. The 
poor wretches who caught the disease, were huddled 
together in close rooms, without any fire, and some- 
times without food. At night, when the streets were 



AT LONG ISLAND. 99 

still, we could hear them screaming for water, till 
their voices grew hoarse. When one died, he was 
dragged down the stairs, put into a wooden box, and 
hurried to the burial-pits. Often the body fell to 
pieces, being nothing but a crust of rottenness and 
corruption. People deserted the houses in the neigh- 
borhood that was first attacked, and moved two or 
three miles away ; but they could n't escape. Others 
washed their houses, and burned lime day and night 
— all to no purpose. It broke out a mile from the 
first place ; and next day was in the middle of the 
town. Some persons fell in the street with fear and 
weakness ; but no one would touch them, and they 
died alone. When one in a family was attacked at 
night, the others fled out through snow or rain, leav- 
ing the poor fellow to shift for himself. But it was a 
sight, lads, that made many a heart ache, to see little 
barefooted children sitting on door-steps, shivering 
with cold, and crying for their dead mothers. I don't 
know what got into the people ; but it seemed to me 
that their hearts were hardened, as Caddy used to say 
about sinners. Many a time I thanked Heaven that 
she was n't there." 

" It 's a horrible disease !" exclaimed Pierce. 

"You should have seen it in Boston," Smith re- 
plied. " The mere name of small-pox sometimes 
makes me shudder." 

" Was it among the red-coats ?" enquired Hanna. 



100 THE CAM*P-FIRE 

"A good many thought so; but the British kept 
matters to themselves. Still, I believe some of them 
died with the disease. Had our people had plenty 
of wholesome victuals, and warm fires, and airy ac- 
commodations, as Howe's men had, I don't think 
the pestilence would have spread among them, either. 
The British officers might have sent some of their 
doctors to help the sick; but they hadn't feeling- 
enough to do that. And, while I think of it, boys, 
I '11 tell you how they enjoyed themselves, while in- 
nocent people were dying all around them. Every 
other night or so, there was a ball, where the red- 
coats were dressed, and starched, and powdered, like 
monkeys ; and they 'd bow, and grin, and scrape, and 
caper, before half-a-dozen ugly tory women, enough 
to sicken a horse. Next day they 'd be too drunk to 
know whether their own soldiers were rebels or not ; 
and we 'd see them sometimes dozing, with their red 
faces and dirty beards, beside the barrack windows. 
They got up a theatre, too, where they showed things 
to ridicule our army ; and some of them had the im- 
pudence to ask Nancy Pierson, and some of her young 
friends, to attend. Nancy sent them off with a flea 
in their ear; and so did the other girls. One night in 
February, they were going to bring out a great thing, 
which was called ' The Blockade of Boston ;' which 
meant the same as Washington besieging Boston. If 
you gave a shilling, you might get in. A paper was 



AT LONG ISLAND. 101 

put up at the corners about it; and some red-coat 
wrote underneath, with a pencil, that rebels and beg- 
gars, who were too poor or too mean to give a shilling, 
might get in for tenpence." 

" I could n't have stood that insult !" ejaculated 
Hanna. 

" That afternoon," continued Smith, " I met Boa- 
genes Sturdie. Says he, 'Where are you going, 
Smith?' and I told him. Then he said he had a 
notion in his head ; and I asked him what it was. 
Says he, ' Smith, I scorn the man that goes to a red- 
coat theatre, and pays for going; but that paper, 
to-day, stings me to the quick; and I am going in 
without paying a penny.' Says I, ' How ?' He an- 
swered, that there was to be a great rush of tories ; 
and that some of them often got through in the crowd 
without paying, and he knew he could do the same. 
"When I asked him if it would be right for patriots to 
go to such a place, he said, that a good many brisk 
lads were to be there, to see if they could kick up a 
fuss; and that every man that loved his country 
ought to be near to help them. Then I agreed to go 
with him; and we parted, to meet in time for the 
show. 

" Wiien we got there, we found some of our boys 

taking the shillings, on the steps ; for the guards were 

too drunk to see what was going on ; especially as it 

was night. Sturdie winked as we went by, and they 

9* 



102 THE CAMP-FIRE 

slipped each of us a shilling, to provide against 
trouble. But when the tory fools got up to the door 
on the second story, that opened into the theatre 
entry, the door-keeper demanded their money. They 
called him a fool ; saying they had given their money 
to the real door-keepers, down below. He swore they 
were lying ; for no one was there to receive money. 
Now some of these very chaps were officers, with tory 
girls on their arms; and there were some old rich 
tories, that were n't used to hear insults, except from 
us. So half-ardozen clinched the poor fellow at the 
same time, and dragged him down the steps, to give 
him to the guards ; and the whole crowd rushed up 
the entry and into the door, hurraing for King George 
and the army. We laughed in our sleeves; and 
soon found out that a good many of the boys were 
behind us, laughing, too. The hubbub brought the 
managers to the door ; and when they found out how 
they had been cheated, they ran down into the street, 
swearing to hang the rebels who had taken the 
money. But they did n't find one of them ; and they 
durst not ask those who had got in, for their money, 
lest there should be another disturbance. 

" Our lads kept themselves straight as a pine-tree, 
till the show began. There was a big picture painted 
like Boston, and a good many fine-dressed English 
soldiers defending it. Some tories, dressed in rags, 
pretended to be the Americans. They had spades, 



AT LONG ISLAND. 103 

picks, and broomsticks, instead of guns, and stove- 
pipes for hats. This was n't enough ; but they had 
the impudence to bring out his excellency, dressed in 
a blanket, with a rusty sword in his hand, and a wig 
that reached down to his waist. I asked Sturdie how 
long we must bear such insults; but he was busy 
contriving some mischief, and made no answer. Just 
as Washington came out, some of the people near the 
stove began to jump about as if a cannon-ball had 
been shot among them. In a minute, we smelled 
sulphur a-fire ; and such a fit of coughing don't often 
happen in theatres. The managers ran down to the 
stove ; some ran down stairs ; the women near the 
stove fainted; and a fellow, dressed in a red coat, 
roared out from the stage that there was no danger. 
They let in fresh air; and were just beginning to 
search for the one who had caused the mischief, when 
a sergeant ran in, and throwing down his bayonet, 
cried out that the Yankees were attacking Bunker 
Hill. Some believed that this was part of the play ; 
but, all at once, General Howe sprang to his feet, and 
drawing his sword, ordered the officers to their alarm- 
posts. The crowd was in an uproar ; — women 
screaming and fainting; soldiers hurrying to seize 
their guns; and the tories on their knees, praying 
that their lives might be spared. Howe told the 
people to clear the house ; and in the rush, the lights 
on our side were knocked down. This was what we 



ih.^ 



104 THE CAMP-FIRE 

wanted. There were n't man}^ silk dresses, nor cloth 
coats, got out whole; saying nothing about the 
damage done by the apothecaries' stuff that was put 
on before the alarm was given. Besides, the front 
ones were shoved down stairs headforemost; and 
there they lay until the mob behind walked over 
them. I kept near Sturdie all the time ; and as soon 
as we got into the street, says he, ' It was worth a 
shilling — let 's scatter ;' and away we walked different 
ways. We never found out who put the sulphur in 
the stove, nor how it got in ; for all four stoves were 
surrounded with tories only." 

"It was a grand trick!" ejaculated one of the 
hearers. 

" But what made the sergeant run in ?" enquired 
Hanna. 

" I thought you remembered," Smith replied. " It 
was the same night that Major Knowlton marched to 
Charlestown, and burned some houses there, so that 
the red-coats couldn't use them for garrisons. We 
thought for awhile that his excellency was coming 
with all the army ; and the whole town was in an 
uproar." 

" It was n't long after that, before he did come," 
remarked Wilson. 

"Only a few weeks," the young man answered. 
" I can't tell you, boys, how we felt when Howe and 
his red-coats sailed from the town. It was a sight 



AT LONG ISLAND. 105 

that made every heart beat for joy. When the news 
was spread through the country, people flocked from 
all quarters to see their friends once more. The 
streets were full of carriages and wagons ; and long 
crowds of men, women, and boys, kept passing along 
the sidewalks, carrying trunks and bundles. I went 
down toward the Neck, early in the morning, to wait 
for Deacon Stackhouse's wagon to come along ; for he 
it was that had given Caddy a home after she left 
Boston ; and he had sent word to me, two days before, 
that he Avas going to bring her to town. After I had 
waited about two hours, the old man came along. 
Caddy was with him; but she didn't look as she 
did when we parted. Her cheeks were thin and 
white ; and I saw she had suffered a great deal. But 
it was a happy meeting, after all ; and the poor girl 
forgot all s%e Ijad suffered from sickness and sorrow, 
and seemed for awhile as lively and joyous as ever. 
Still, she was not in good health ; for, like many other 
poor women, she had been exposed to bad weather, 
and hardships, and frights, the whole winter. I 
do n't want to say much more, lads," the young man 
continued, in a sad tone ; " she was too good for this 
world ; but I believe she 'd have got well after all, if 
she hadn't been attacked with the small-pox, of 
which she died. We buried her in the graveyard 
near her uncle's farm, and, the next day, I joined the 
army." 



f ^^ 



106 THE CAMP-FIRE AT LONG ISLAND. 

Such was the young soldier's story of the siege of 
Boston. The night was now well advanced; and 
each of the party lay down on his rude couch, to 
dream on the narrative he had just heard, and on the 
chances of the coming battle. 



THE CAMP-FIRE AT SKIPPACK CREEK. 

What heart that values American liberty, or that 
can appreciate its blessings, has not felt sad, while 
musing upon that dark period in our struggle for 
independence, when a British army, flushed with 
success, drove Washington, and his handful of con- 
tinental troops, through New Jersey and across the 
Delaware ? or what cheek has not been flushed with 
enthusiasm, when reading of the battle of Trenton ? 
The page of history which contains the narrative of 
that glorious action, has often appeared too tame to 
reflect the feelings with which we peruse it; and we 
long to have near us some actor in the stormy event, 
that we may hear him dwell upon each little incideat, 
and paint scenes and characters, as is not done by the 
formal historian. Alas ! the heroes of '76 have de- 
parted ! Yet here and there is found, among their 
posterity, a letter, a camp-journal, or a written narra- 
tive, penned in hours of gloom and danger; but 
which, rude and unlearned though it be, transports 
us to the troubled camp, and gives us a glimpse of 

(107) 



108 THE CAMP-FIRE 

the sufferings endured by our fathers, to achieve inde- 
pendence for their children. 

For some days before the battle of Germantown, 
the American army was encamped at Skippack Creek, 
a little stream which runs into the east bank of the 
Schuylkill, about twenty miles above Philadelphia. 
It was autumn ; and large fires were frequently kept 
burning, to warm the half-clad soldiers. Wearied 
with their constant marches since the battle of the 
Brandywine, the soldiers were allowed a short season 
of repose ; and alternately companies ranged the 
woods in quest of fuel, nuts, and game. At night, 
the men lay together in small groups, in that part of 
their tent or hut nearest the camp-fire; and while 
thus endeavoring to keep themselves warm, many 
were the stories which they related to one another, 
of scenes they had witnessed in former stages of the 
war. It was with peculiar delight, on such occasions, 
that a young man named Nathan Black, who had 
been at the battles of Trenton and Princeton, related 
to the recruits who had joined since that time, the 
share he had taken in them. Black was an orphan, 
who had been bound to a maternal uncle, at the age 
of twelve years. So read, at least, his indenture ; 
but many inferred, from his size and extraordinary 
strength of mind, that he was bound when at least 
fifteen. As the records of the family were lost during 
the tumultuous scenes with which the revolution 



AT SKIPPACK CREEK. 109 

opened, it was impossible to ascertain with precision ; 
but Black always affirmed that his uncle had cheated 
him out of three years, for the sake of the accruing 
profits. All parties were Quakers; and at first all 
were tories. But, long before the declaration of inde- 
pendence, young Black had learned to sympathize 
with his suffering countrymen. Secretly he espoused 
their cause ; and, contriving to escape from his tory 
master, he accompanied the fifteen hundred Philadel- 
phians who joined Washington after he had crossed 
the Delaware, and was present in all the important 
operations of the winter campaign. Such a com- 
panion, in the camp on the Schuylkill, was esteemed 
by officers and men ; and no one was oftener employed 
to gratify their curiosity, by recounting stories in 
which he had been an actor. 

" What made you think of turning ?" enquired a 
comrade, as Black sat one evening among a group of 
soldiers, at whose request he was relating an anecdote 
of a tory who had lost all his property, and become 
insane. 

" One reason was," he answered, " I did n't like to 
be called a tory ; and when I heard boys and men 
hurraing for freedom, it made my blood stir, though 
I could n't tell why. I said to myself, ' What good 
will King George do me, if he conquers? None. 
What good will Congress do me ? Why, they '11 take 
off the taxes, and perhaps make me a freeman.' These 
10 



110 THE CAMP-FIRE 

things were up before my mind every day ; especially 
as my apprenticeship would soon be over, and then 
I 'd have to make a living for myself. Besides, uncle 
Isaac was a tory; and that was enough to set me 
against the whole party of them. Sometimes, a 
number of them would meet at his house, to drink 
wine, and make fun of General Washington. Uncle 
Isaac was worse than a Turk, when he had liquor in 
him, if it was only a spoonful ; and some of the boys 
or the servants were sure to get horsewhipped before 
he got sober. 

" One Monday afternoon, I heard the glasses ringing 
in the parlor, and knew that somebody would be 
regulated before he got to bed. Others knew it as 
well as myself; and so we began to prepare for the 
worst. In half an hour, Isaac came partly down the 
steps; and after looking around, beckoned with his 
fore-finger for me to come up. I followed him on 
tiptoe ; but my heart was heavy. He asked me if I 
remembered being at a rebel meeting, the Saturday 
night before. I told him I had only stopped to see 
what was going on. 'Did thy duty impel thee to 
stop, Nathan ?' he asked. I told him that it did n't. 
'Did thy conscience, Nathan?' J saw I'd get the 
hiding, anyhow ; and so I answered, ' Yes.' ' Then 
I '11 not interfere with thy conscience ; but thee shall 
be regulated, for doing more than thy duty. Thee '11 
find the horsewhip hanging in the usual place, behind 



AT SKIPPACK CREEK. Ill 

the dresser.' But just then I felt bolder than I ever 
had ; for, since being at the meeting, it seemed as if 
I had got a new spirit. So I stood still, till he said 
the rebel was strong in me ; and then I told him I 
was no rebel. The upshot was, I got beat half to 
death; and Isaac suffered severely, too, especially 
about the ribs. He never gave me a good word after- 
wards ; but watched me closely, for fear I 'd try to 
run off. Every day, he 'd come into the workshop, 
about quitting time, and follow me up to the house ; 
and as soon as supper was over, he sat down with the 
boys till dark ; when every one had to retire to his 
room. But, one night, I slipped into the cellar, and 
waited there till Isaac had gone to bed, when I con- 
trived to get the bar from the outside cellar-door, and 
made my escape. I hid myself, that night, in a field 
a little above the State-House, where some trees had 
been chopped down, and the logs piled together on 
the ground, with brush over them. Some men went 
down the road to town, soon after ; and I knew they 
were tories, by their talk. Next day, I ran along 
Sassafras Lane till I reached the American camp. 
An officer took me into a tent, placed me by the fire, 
and listened while I told my story. He asked me if 
I was willing to join a party that was going to help 
General Washington. I told him I was ; and, some 
days after, we were on our march. The women had 
been busy for a long time, making clothes, and pro- 



112 THE CAMP-FIRE 

viding other little things, to make the party comfort- 
able ; so that we were much better oflf than the 
regulars in camp. I had never seen a camp before ; 
and it made me feel queer, to see men walking over 
the frozen ground barefoot, others with their toes and 
feet frosted black, and some with a ragged blanket 
thrown over their shoulders instead of a coat. The 
poor fellows looked on our clothing with longing eyes ; 
and I could almost have pulled off my shoes to give 
to some of them." 

" Did they cross the river, in that condition ?" en- 
quired one of the listeners. 

" A good number of them did," replied Black ; " but 
you know some could n't cross for the ice. Two days 
after we had arrived, his excellency came to see us. 
He was on horseback. You know how he can ride ; 
and what a noble way he has of sitting on his horse, 
when soldiers march before him. I had seen him two 
or three times before, at Philadelphia, when he did n't 
look half so fine. He was pleased with our appear- 
ance, and gave orders that we should be drilled care- 
fully every day. And drilling enough we had, over 
the roughest ground, and in the worst weather. Still, 
our men were in high spirits ; although I soon found 
out that the Veterans,' as they were called, felt 
gloomy and suspicious." 

"Weren't they out of heart?" asked a soldier 
named Reed. 



AT SKIPPACK CREEK. 113 

" They were, indeed. Sometimes they whispered 
among themselves, that the members of Congress 
kept back their pay, and neglected to send on clothes ; 
and, let me tell you, comrades, there were more than 
a few under-officers there, who threatened to raise a 
revolt. Others thought there was no use of fighting 
any longer against the king. We had been driven, 
they said, from one colony to another ; and we 'd be 
driven further, as soon as the river freezed over. If 
Congress wanted them to be butchered, why did n't 
the members say so, and not let men drop to pieces 
with cold and hunger? Sometimes our men would 
try to talk with them ; but we received answer, that 
it was easier to talk about order, with a warm coat 
and good shoes on, than to fight a whole campaign 
barefoot and in rags. I believe if it had n't been that 
their time was out at the end of the year, they would 
have gone ofi" by regiments." 

" Did they get no relief till after the battle ?" en- 
quired Whilden, an old soldier, who had been through 
the French war. 

"Very little," continued Black. "Once a week, 
— perhaps not so often, — a small bundle of shoes, or 
coats, or trousers, came up from the city ; but it was 
a poor chance among so many. Most of us lent our 
coats at times ; but this led to some disorder, and was 
at last forbidden. One day, when there had been a 
great deal of angry talking, we saw General Washing- 
10* H 



114 THE CAMP-FIRE 



ton riding toward the veteran camp. After dis- 
mounting, he walked into one of the tents, and began 
to speak with the soldiers, about their condition. 
His kindness, and the sorrow he felt for them, brought 
tears to every eye. They told him how much they 
suffered, and showed their miserable food and ragged 
clothes. He passed from tent to tent, and found it 
was everywhere the same. The general gave them 
all the comfort he could ; praising their faithfulness 
to the cause, when their reward was so poor, and pro- 
mising to do all he could with Congress, and also with 
private citizens, for their relief. It cheered the poor 
fellows, to know that at least his excellency cared for 
them ; and when they saw tears stealing down the 
general's cheeks, they felt ashamed of their complain- 
ing, and willing to endure as many more hardships, 
if they were only for his sake." 

" He 's got a noble heart !" ejaculated one of the 
group. 

" He was born to save America," Whilden added. 

" There was no more murmuring after that," re- 
sumed Black ; " but the soldiers rather seemed proud 
that they were suffering for freedom. And this was 
fortunate enough ; for, shortly afterwards, we received 
orders to hold ourselves in readiness to march at the 
shortest notice. This threw the camp into confusion. 
None of the soldiers knew what enemy was to be 
attacked; for, as to crossing the river, it wasn't 



AT SKIPPACK CREEK. 115 

dreamed of. Some began to think that we were to be 
sent to Philadelphia, to punish the tories ; for there 
were hundreds of them there, as cruel and as bitter 
against the patriots, as uncle Isaac was. On Christ- 
mas eve, all the guns were examined, and a supply 
of provisions was dealt out. We understood, from 
this, that some enterprise was to be undertaken next 
day. This was a bad prospect ; for the weather was 
very cold, and snow fell occasionally, in blinding 
showers. In the morning, all the soldiers of each 
regiment were placed together, and the arms were 
again examined. By and by. General Washington 
rode along the lines, pointing out the companies that 
had been selected ; and in them were about five hun- 
dred of our Philadelphia men. Every heart beat 
with expectation ; and when it was whispered along 
the ranks, that we were to cross the river at M'Con- 
key's Ferry, and march down upon Trenton, gladness 
was seen in all faces. No one doubted that we would 
gain the victory, if the general led us ; and it was 
soon ascertained that he was going to do so. 

" In the afternoon, the wind blew from the north, 
like a hurricane. Hail and rain fell so thickly, at 
times, that we could n't see half-way across the en- 
campment ; besides, the weather grew colder every 
hour. The general was on horseback through it all ; 
but the soldiers were allowed to stay in the tents till 
nearly all the arrangements for marching had been 



116 



THE CAMP-FIRE 



made. The last order was, that we should be careful 
of our guns and powder ; and in a little while after, 
we were on our road to the ferry, which we reached 
about dusk. A great many of the men had become 
discouraged by the storm ; and when they heard the 
ice in the river crashing in all directions, and the 
water lashing the banks, from the force of the wind, 
they were almost ready to throw down their arms in 
despair. But it was too late either to turn back, or 
stand still. We heard the officers giving orders, yet 
could see nothing, for the storm and the darkness. 
When the soldiers embarked, they had to cling to 
each other ; so strong was the wind, and so high did 
the waves toss and turn the boats. After the first 
loads had started, those who remained behind were 
numbed with cold, and harassed with doubts. Some 
said we could n't cross ; others thought the boatmeil 
were calling for help ; and all of us could hear, plainly 
enough, the ice dashing against the boats. It was a 
long time before the second division could embark ; 
and still many were left behind, I being among them. 
At last, our turn came ; and, hard as it had been to 
stand on the shore, I found it nothing, compared to 
that passage of the river. Sometimes, sheets of ice 
would strike the boat, and carry it for some distance 
down the river, before the boatmen could row clear 
of them. Then large waves broke over the sides, 
wetting us through, and half filling the boat with 



AT SKIPPACK CREEK. 117 

water. Our fingers froze fast to our guns ; and we 
had no other way to keep ourselves warm, than to sit 
close together, exposing our hands and feet as little 
as possible. When we first landed on the Jersey 
shore, some could n't stand, but had to be lifted ashore 
by the others. The artillery arrived safely ; and then 
such of the officers as had remained behind, came 
over in the last boat. By this time, most of the 
soldiers had formed in regular order. The general 
and his staff passed from point to point, exhorting 
the men to do their duty, and assuring them that if 
they did, their present sufferings would be ended. 

" It was now four o'clock in the morning. We 
began the march in two columns. One, under Gene- 
ral Sullivan, moved down the river road ; and the 
other, down the Pennington road. General Greene 
led the second division ; while his excellency passed 
from one company to another, exhorting his men to 
do their duty. It snowed and hailed during the 
whole march ; and our road was marked with blood 
from the bare feet of the men. But I did n't hear 
them complain ; for their spirits were now roused for 
the battle. When it grew light enough for the gene- 
ral to see their condition, he told them that there was 
warm clothing, and plenty of food, in the enemy's 
quarters, which he hoped would soon be ours. On 
hearing this, they marched faster; and, in half an 
hour, we were near the hills among which the town 



118 THE CAMP-FIRE 

is built. The officers galloped along from one com- 
pany to another, waving their swords, and telling us 
that now was the time to fight for our country, and 
drive the cruel Britons from the soil. They reminded 
us of the outrages in the Jerseys, of the manner in 
which peaceable people had been treated, even after 
surrendering, and of the great cause for which we 
were fighting. I had never seen a battle ; because, 
as I told you, I had been brought up among the 
Quakers; but these words of the officers filled me 
with new life, and I marched with as great an air, 
and as little fear, as any veteran. We weren't to 
make any noise till the attack commenced ; but then 
to hurrah with all our might, to let the other division 
hear us, if they should be near. About eight o'clock, 
we approached the bridge, at the cross-roads, where 
the red-coats were posted. The first we met, was a 
guard of only a few men, w^ho were so drunk that 
they did n't see us coming, till we were too close for 
them to escape. They had had a merry Christmas 
together; eating pies, puddings, and chickens, and 
cursing the rebels. Three or four, who were in the 
tent nearest to us, ran out without their guns, to ask 
what was the matter. I saw Greene in front, waving 
his sword, and heard the line ahead of us, firing. 
Thinks I, the battle 's begun, and we must take our 
chance. In a moment, his excellency dashed along 
toward the front, another volley was fired, and then 



AT SKIPPACK CREEK. 119 

we heard the boys in front, hurraing. At the same 
moment, the other column was firing, further down ; 
and soon we marched, in double-quick time, toward 
the British main party. These were the Hessians ; 
and, after all their cruelties to our women and chil- 
dren, we could have bayoneted them without mercy. 
But strict orders had been given, to spare all pri- 
soners ; yet we could n't be stopped from shooting as 
many as possible, when we did fire. Colonel Rahl, 
who commanded them, fought bravely, trying to save 
his field-pieces ; but he was picked off by some of our 
men. The rest of us rushed on, carrying all before 
us, and driving off* the cannoneers in every direction. 
Three cheers were given for the guns, by the officers 
as well as men ; but we did n't stop — no, not for a 
moment. "Washington was n't to be seen ; for he was 
giving orders about stopping the red-coats, if they 
made a push for Princeton. General Mercer galloped 
by us, waving his hat, and shouting that America 
was still safe. He had hardly gone, when one of 
Greene's aids dashed along on the other flank, order- 
ing us to make one more charge. On we drove, 
through the camp, overcoming all opposition, and 
chasing the fugitives toward Princeton. After a 
short time, we saw the detachment that his excel- 
lency had thrown in their rear. These veterans 
hailed us with loud shouts ; and as soon as the Hes- 
sians observed that they were Americans, they threw 



120 THE CAMP-FIRE 

down their muskets, and bawled for cj[uarter. They 
were all surrounded and taken prisoners. Sullivan's 
division was now in sight. They had also captured 
a great number ; besides securing a large quantity of 
clothing. The Hessians stacked their muskets, which 
amounted to a thousand ; we also got six field-pieces. 
By and by, his excellency, with some other officers, 
rode up with their hats off, when the very air rung 
with the hurraing. Some of the boys behind forgot 
to stop, after they had given eighteen cheers ; and 
kept shouting for America and Washington, till the 
general began to laugh, and sent to tell them that he 
was satisfied." 

" How many were killed at that battle ?" asked one 
of the soldiers. 

"Only two of our men. But two poor fellows 
froze to death, crossing the river. The Hessians lost 
their colonel and six other officers, besides twenty or 
thirty men. After all was over, and the prisoners 
had been secured, the general said we must have 
something to eat. In the camp, we found everything 
of the best, which the Hessians had left from their 
Christmas dinner. We soon put it to a better use ; 
and as large fires were burning in the houses that 
formed the British quarters, we had the most com- 
fortable meal that had been eaten by us since we 
were an army. I saw tears of joy rolling down the 
cheeks of the old veterans, which they tried to brush 



AT SKIPPACK CREEK. 121 

away with their ragged sleeves. The officers were as 
happy as the men ; for they beheved that affairs 
would now take a turn. As there was plenty of rum 
in the cellars, the general ordered that our canteens 
should be filled, before we started. What remained, 
with the enemy's baggage, provisions, and other 
things, was packed for easier carriage. 

"After breakfast was over, we got ready for march- 
ing. The other troops, who were to cross the river, 
above and below us, had n't been able to do so, on 
account of the ice ; and therefore the general resolved 
to cross the river immediately, in order to place his 
prisoners in safety. After defeating the Hessians 
and eating a good breakfast, we found marching much 
pleasanter than when we came up from the river ; 
and nothing was talked of, along the way, but the 
victory. We were received, on the opposite side, 
with loud cheers. When the soldiers had reached 
the camp, the muskets were distributed among those 
who were without arms, and the clothing in like 
manner. It was lucky for our men, that baggage and 
clothing was taken that day, as well as prisoners." 

" What was done with the prisoners ?" enquired a 
listener. 

"You remember they were Hessians," continued 

Black. " This made us think it would go hard with 

them ; especially as they had carried on all kinds of 

outrage in the Jerseys, during the winter. Most of 

11 



122 THE CAMP-FIRE 

our soldiers thought they would be shot ; and many 
said that they deserved a still worse death. But his 
excellency had determined to deal with them in a 
way of his own. When they had been placed in 
quarters, he visited them, in company with an inter- 
preter ; and his officers told them what the Americans 
were fighting for, and how much the soldiers of other 
nations ought to feel interested in their cause, rather 
than consent to oppose it. They answered, that the 
British had told them that the Americans were only 
a parcel of rebels and savages, and the army nothing 
but a mob of ragamuffins. The general asked them 
if they had ever known our people to act like savages. 
They acknowledged that they had never seen any- 
thing of the kind 5 but said that the British had told 
them that the rebels never gave quarter in battle ; 
that they chopped their prisoners to pieces, just to try 
their swords, or else stripped off their skins, to make 
drum-heads of; and that the women were far more 
fierce and cruel than the men !" 

" And had the British told them such tales ?" asked 
Whilden. 

"Yes, and still worse ones. They even said the 
young rebels were taught to eat Hessian meat, instead 
of pork; and that the prisoners were fattened for 
the purpose ! This, you know, they did to make the 
Hessians fight better; and these simple Dutchmen 
believed every word, and were ready to kill every 



AT SKIPPACK CREEK. 123 

American in cold blood; whether men, women, or 
children. Our officers would have laughed out, had 
not his excellency looked quite sober, and proceeded 
with the conversation. He asked the prisoners if 
they had received quarter or not at Trenton ; and 
they had to confess the truth. Then he asked how 
many of the dead they had seen insulted after the 
battle. To this they gave no answer ; knowing that 
the killed on both sides had been buried with equal 
decency. The general asked many more questions, 
until, at last, the poor Dutchmen were utterly 
ashamed of themselves, and acknowledged that they 
had not been so kindly spoken to, since landing in 
America. Some of them could hardly speak, for joy, 
when they learned that their lives would be spared. 
His excellency told them, that if they would lay 
down their arms, and become farmers, he would ac- 
count them the same as his countrymen, and defend 
their rights as he did his own. They consented 
willingly enough ; saying that if the other Hessians 
in the British army heard of the offer, they would 
desert in a body. And, not long after, they did hear 
about it; when they ran off in such numbers, that 
the officers had to watch them closer than they would 
prisoners. 

"News of the battle reached Philadelphia that 
night, and threw the town into an uproar. The bells 
were rung, and crowds of people flocked toward Gen- 



124 THE CAMP-FIRE 

eral Putnam's camp, to hear the details. But the 
tories were nearly as strong as our men ; so that, two 
or three times, there came near being a riot. They 
said it was plain enough that Washington had been 
defeated, else why would he return across the river 
on the same day he crossed it; and as to the report 
of prisoners and muskets being taken, they laughed 
at it. But, in two or three days, the Hessians were 
sent down in wagons, and lodged safely in the city ; 
so that the enemies of our freedom could, see that the 
report of the battle had been no joke. The tories 
now began to be afraid. Some of them, thinking the 
war was over, and that Howe would be in Philadel- 
phia as soon as the river should freeze, had acted, for 
some time, pretty much as they pleased — that is, 
when they were out of old Putnam's hearing ; for I 
want you to understand, that no one spoke ill of the 
cause when he was near. It was told in camp, that 
these tories held secret meetings every week ; when 
they talked about helping Howe, if he attempted to 
attack Philadelphia. The news of our victory at 
Trenton, frightened them a little ; but they still kept 
up such an excitement, that Putnam was employed, 
with his whole force, watching them. People were 
afraid to stir from their doors at night, as they heard 
so much about plots and secret enemies ; and a soldier, 
who joined our company after the battle of Princeton, 
told us that some of the tories were persuading the 



AT SKIPPACK CREEK. 125 

inhabitants to burn the city ; so that, as they said, it 
would n't fall into foreign hands. This they did, 
pretending to be in favor of our cause. He said that 
all the citizens who had guns, saw that they were 
loaded and primed every night before venturing to 
sleep ; and that, for some weeks before Christmas, a 
rising of all the tories in Philadelphia was expected. 
But they were frightened out of this attempt, by 
seeing the Hessian prisoners, and by the watchfulness 
of old Putnam, who seemed to be all over town at 
the same time. After New-Year's day, they became 
quiet enough ; but I suppose that they 're merry as 
crickets now, since their red-coat friends have joined 
them." 

" How long was it before you crossed again ?" en- 
quired one of the listeners. 

"Four days. His excellency wanted to give us 
time to rest, after so much exposure. But we learned 
afterwards, that Colonel Cadwalader, with a consider- 
able body of militia, had crossed below us, on the 
27th, and moved toward Burlington. On learning 
that Washington had not remained in Trenton, he 
would have crossed again ; but his officers, and 
Colonel Reed, advised him to push on. He did so ; 
and was driving the enemy before him, when we 
crossed over to Trenton. His excellency joined us 
next day ; and Colonel Reed was sent out, with six 
horsemen, that morning, to reconnoitre. He returned 
11* 



126 THE CAMP-FIRE 

with twelve prisoners, that he had taken in a house 
near Clarksville. They had pistols and swords ; but 
the Colonel charging them boldly, they surrendered. 
The sergeant escaped through the back-door, and 
did n't stop running till he got to Princeton ; where 
he told them that he had fought his way through 
fifty horsemen. "We understood, also, that Colonel 
Reed brought information of a large force preparing 
to march against us ; but the soldiers could n't learn 
the particulars. It was certain that we could not 
stay long in Jersey, without at least one more brush 
with the enemy ; and those who knew the strength 
of Howe, concluded that it would be hotter and 
heavier than it was at Trenton. But our officers 
were confident of victory ; and all the militia who 
had lately arrived, rejoiced at the prospect of being 
able to do something as great and honorable as had 
been done the week before. 

" But, just at this time, the camp was filled with 
confusion and alarm. For some time, none of our 
battalion knew what was the matter. Officers stood 
ready to receive orders, and the men looked one at 
another, not knowing what to do or say. It was not 
that the enemy was near ; for none but our own men 
could be seen ; and even if an army had been march- 
ing toward us, there was time to retreat, if necessary. 
At last, an aid to one of the officers passed along by 
the tents, and left orders for us to be ready to move 



AT SKIPPACK CREEK. 127 

at the shortest notice. He had scarcely passed the 
. house where we were cantoned, when one who seemed 
to be a straggler, whispered, as he hurried by, that 
the veterans were in revolt. This was news indeed ; 
yet only a few believed it. We could n't think that 
the men who had suffered so much, and fought so 
well for freedom, would now desert the cause. Still 
the confusion seemed to increase ; and many officers 
rode backward and forward in the streets ; but so fast, 
that we could learn nothing from them of the state 
of affairs. After a long and anxious watch, we were 
allowed to retire to our quarters again ; but we did 
not hear the true cause of the alarm till the following 
day." 

"Wasn't that the time they wanted to be dis- 
banded?" enquired Whilden. 

" Yes," was the reply ; " for their time had expired. 
It was n't a revolt ; but it was almost as bad for the 
army, as though it had been. They had a right to 
go home on the last day of the year, according to 
their bargain with Congress ; and this they asked to 
be allowed to do. But you remember what a blow 
this would give to our cause ; in Jersey, too, where 
the British were preparing to attack us. The general 
and his officers saw what would be the result, and 
determined to keep them a little longer, if it could be 
done. But all remonstrances seemed in vain. They 
said they were no longer soldiers, and would go off in 



128 THE CAMP-FIRE 

a body. When mention was made of Congress, they 
cursed the members, and thanked Heaven they had 
got free from them. They told the general that they 
honored and loved him ; but asked what use it was 
to depend on promises any longer, when they received 
no pay, no clothing, no food fit to eat, and no real 
encouragement for the future. When they were pre- 
paring to move, and there had been, for some minutes, 
deep silence, Washington walked toward them, with 
some of his officers following, and made so stirring an 
appeal to them, that some paused, and put down their 
bundles. Seeing this, half-a-dozen low fellows began 
to swear ; but the others made them be quiet. Several 
of the officers also addressed them ; and, at last, a 
bounty of ten dollars " was offered to every one who 
would remain six weeks longer. About half of them 
agreed to accept the offer. 

"It was well for our army, that this affair was 
settled so easily. Next day, we heard that a large 
army was moving toward us ; and some said it was 
commanded by Lord Cornwallis. Colonel Reed was 
out all day, examining the ground, and picking up 
information ; and Cadwalader, with his men, was 
ordered up from below. That night, the camp was 
in a bustle ; and, early next morning, we took post in 
Trenton. Here we remained till the scouts brought 
the intelligence that the British were approaching. 
The marching and turning of the troops bewildered 



AT SKIPPACK CREEK. 129 

me very much ; and I 'm most ashamed to say that, 
at last, when we did stop, I could n't tell whether we 
were facmg north or south. I whispered to Samuel 
Cresson, who stood next to me, if he knew where the 
enemy were ; but he was as ignorant as myself. Still, 
most of the men were in high spirits ; for they ima- 
gined they would get another victory as easily as they 
had the day after Christmas ; besides, as the weather 
was cold, the excitement warmed them. 

" By this time, some British cavalry had been dis- 
covered coming down from Princeton. A large party 
followed them, but, on seeing our scouts, turned back. 
We could do nothing till we heard from our advanced 
guard, who were in a wood, some miles further up, 
behind Shabbocunk Creek. Parties of riflemen were 
there, to harass the enemy ; and it was thought that, 
if they gained any advantage, the main body could 
improve it, either by defeating the enemy, or keeping 
them back till night, when Washington would be able 
to cross the river. Our officers were all on horseback, 
talking with great earnestness, and they appeared to 
be much perplexed. A number of aids rode one by 
one to his excellency, and, after saying something in 
a hurry, and receiving orders, galloped away. At 
last. General Greene, with a few men, hurried forward, 
in double-quick time, to join the party in the woods. 
The battle had begun; for we heard sharp firing 
ahead, long before Greene was out of sight. It was 

I 



130 THE CAMP-FIRE 

now twelve o'clock. Our whole army was iu motion, 
crossing the little bridge over the Assanpink ; for the 
ground on the other side was higher and better than 
that we were on ; besides which, we would then have 
the creek in our front. About half were across, when 
we saw the riflemen, and the rest of the advance- 
party, retreating as fast as they could ; and, soon 
after, the enemy commenced firing on that part of the 
army which still remained in Trenton. At first, they 
were disposed to run; but the officers maintained 
order, and hurried the march over the bridge. Now, 
for the first time, I saw a large army in motion ; for 
the British had got into the road, and were marching 
on toward our front and left. Their bayonets, as the 
sun shone on them, seemed like a forest on fire ; and 
they stepped so smooth and regular, that if I had n't 
been busy with our own concerns, I could have gazed 
at them all day. But when the artillery began to 
thunder, a great deal of the beauty wore away ; and 
our men quickened their movements across the bridge. 
Both armies were now firing musketry and cannon- 
shot; and we expected that it would continue the 
whole afternoon. 

" It was then that a comrade, next to me, was shot 
dead. You know, soldiers, we do n't mind such things 
now, because we've seen them .so often. But it 
was n't so with me, then ; for you know I had only 
been at Trenton, where there was little bloodshed. 



AT SKIPPACK CREEK. 131 

Besides, I hadn't got over some of uncle Isaac's 
notions about war. But, not to run before the story, 
John Andrews, a young soldier, about my own age, 
was next to me. We had been in camp together 
from the time we left Philadelphia, and generally 
marched in company. He was always talking of his 
mother ; and he sent her nearly all his money. She 
was poor, and made her living by sewing; yet her 
great comfort was to have a son like this young man. 
It was a dreadful day for her, when he joined the 
army; yet she told him that, since he was going, he 
must fight bravely. In the camp, he used to tell me 
all the plans he had formed to help her, after he 
should get home ; for he never seemed to think there 
was a chance of being killed. 

" But the poor lad was not to see his home again. 
The skirmishing, as I told you, was now going on 
very sharply, and some had fallen on both sides. I 
was looking toward General Greene, who had brought 
off the advance-party safely, when a terrible scream 
caused me to turn suddenly. John had been shot 
through the forehead. His eyes turned upward to- 
ward me, and stretched wide open ; sending a shudder 
through me, that I felt for many days. How gladly 
would I have stooped to help him ! but we hurried 
on, over his body, leaving him to die. I was sick 
enough of the battle, though it had just begun ; for 
I thought of nothing but poor Andrews and his 



132 THE CAMP-FIRE 

mother, and the misery his death would cause her, 
during the whole day." 

" Did the battle stop, when you were over the 
bridge ?" enquired a soldier. 

"No; it had just begun. His excellency formed 
us on the hills and high ground, where we had the 
advantage over the enemy. All our artillery was 
ranged along the creek ; and it kept the British at 
bay till night. Still, the firing was n't regular. Some- 
times it stopped altogether, when we would be alarmed 
with reports that Cornwallis, or some of his officers, 
were crossing above, so as to march down and attack 
our rear. Then the firing of musketry would begin 
again, and continue, briskly enough, for a good while, 
assisted occasionally by the artillery. At times, the 
creek seemed to foam with the shot which fell into it. 
Our men kept their ground bravely ; though we could 
see plainly enough, that the enemy's force was much 
greater than ours. Nor were they, like many of us, 
militia ; but the best troops of Brunswick and other 
garrisons. Yet, seeing that they didn't attempt to 
cross the creek, our officers began to think that the 
real battle was to be on the next day. And this we 
were sure of, as the afternoon wore away ; for, about 
sunset, the firing ceased. We had hoped, all day, 
that the river would freeze strong enough to allow us 
to cross ; but, instead of this, the weather became so 
warm, that whoever moved, sank in mud at every 



AT SKIPPACK CREEK. 133 

step. The ice in the Delaware was half broken up ; 
large cakes of it were carried down by the current ; 
and sometimes the frozen part, near the shore, cracked 
with a report like a cannon. Hence we could neither 
cross on the ice, nor in boats. Now it was that we 
began to see the danger of our situation ; now we 
felt sure that Cornwallis had driven us over the 
creek, where we were shut up by the hills and the 
river, only that he might cut us to pieces on the fol- 
lowing morning. The soldiers and militia had be- 
haved well enough during the day ; but when they 
found out, as they thought, that we were to be slaugh- 
tered, or captured, in the morning, they were almost 
on the point of deserting. Tired as we were with 
fighting and marching for nearly two days and a 
night, none thought of sleep. You might have seen 
little groups of three or four in every tent, whispering 
together, with wild, rolling eyes, and clenched fists. 
They declared that his excellency had been tricked 
by the officers ; that the scouts sent out were traitors ; 
and that our army ought to have crossed the river 
before the British came in sight. Some talked of 
crossing the high grounds, without waiting for orders, 
and marching up the country ; and others swore that 
they 'd not fire a shot on the next day, since they had 
been deceived in the first place. The under-oflficers 
attempted once or twice to interfere ; but they found 
their authority, in a good measure, gone ; and had to 
12 



134 THE CAMP-FIRE 

wink at the violation of order. If the army had 
stayed there all night, I believe all the men, conti- 
nentals as well as militia, would have run, next 
morning, at the first fire." 

" That was a 'cute trick of his excellency, to march 
away, at night, to Princeton !" ejaculated one of the 
soldiers. 

" It saved America !" replied Black. " Besides, we 
learned a lesson, not to find fault with our officers, 
even if we did n't see all at once into their measures. 
While the soldiers were complaining, Washington and 
his generals met in council, at General St. Clair's. 
This quieted the murmuring; but there was great 
anxiety to know what was going to be done. By and 
by, a report was circulated, I do n't know how, that 
we were to retreat up the Delaware, and cross some 
miles above Trenton. This threw the soldiers into 
fresh disorder. They complained of wanting restj 
and asked how they were to march through the mud, 
dragging cannon after them. It was n't because they 
were not brave men ; but, somehow, they had become 
discouraged, and, for awhile, did n't care whether they 
obeyed orders or not. 

" This state of things did n't last very long. While 
the men were disputing among themselves, a line of 
fires was kindled along the creek, opjDosite those of 
the enemy. Every one in our tent, and as far as I 
could see around, turned out to look at them. This 



AT SKIPPACK CREEK. 135 

perplexed us more than anything before ; and Edward 
Gillon, who was standing near, asked me if we were 
to stay all night. I told him I did n't know ; when 
he said he knew one thing, which was, he 'd be off in 
the morning, if they should. One of the men, — I 
forget his name, but he was wounded, next day, in 
the shoulder, — said it was best to be quiet, till we 
found out, for certain, what was going to be done. 
A sergeant came in about that time, and told us to 
wrap ourselves up warm, for a north-easter was 
coming. At first, we did n't believe him ; but, in two 
or three minutes, the wind increased almost to a hur- 
ricane ; and, after the first gust was over, it became 
so cold, that we were glad to wrap blanket, coat, or 
rag, about us. This encouraged the men a little ; for 
what they had most dreaded, was to travel through 
mud. The fires blazed higher every moment, hiding 
us completely from the British. At the same time, 
we heard a dull noise, like the working of pickets ; 
and, before morning, learned that several parties had 
been set at work by the general, to make Cornwallis 
believe we were going to stay all night. Sentinels 
were also posted at the fires, to show themselves 
occasionally to the enemy. While we were in sus- 
pense, to know what these movements were to end in, 
orders ran through camp, to prepare for marching. 
We were glad enough to hear them, now that the 
weather was bitter cold, and the ground frozen hard 



136 THE CAMP-FIRE 

enough to bear cannon. For more than an hour, the 
camp was in a bustle of preparation; but we were 
forbidden to make the least noise, or to whisper, ex- 
cept to the officers. But some were so full of curi- 
osity, that they chose to break orders, rather than be 
ignorant of where they were going. This was soon 
put a stop to; and afterwards the deepest silence 
reigned among us. About twelve o'clock, the bag- 
gage and part of the artillery was sent to Burlington ; 
and, about an hour afterwards, the whole army was 
in motion — not following the baggage, but pushing 
up the country, towards Princeton. The road was as 
hard as stone; and we marched fast and quietly, 
without the slightest disorder. The left flank of the 
British was turned, and all hearts beat with joy, as 
we looked down the line of their fires, and felt that 
we had nearly escaped. Our own fires were burning 
as bright as ever ; for parties were attending to them. 
On we went, ready to cheer the minute we got leave, 
and whispering words of joy, when the officers were 
not near. About daylight, we reached Stony Brook ; 
and a halt was ordered, that the rear might come up. 
General Mercer was again sent in advance ; but the 
Pennsylvania boys remained with Washington. On 
reaching a wood, below the meeting-house that stands 
on the brook, we struck into it, while Mercer pushed 
up the creek, to destroy the bridge on the road leading 
to Trenton. It was now near sunrise ; but no enemy 



AT SKIPPACK CREEK. 137 

was to be seen, nor was any news heard of Lord 
Cornwallis. But while we hurried on, hoping to 
enter Princeton without a battle, sharp firing was 
heard ahead ; a sign that Mercer was attacked. 
Washington no sooner heard the first gun, than he 
marched, with a detachment, to his aid. Arriving 
near the wood, he saw Mercer's militia flying, and 
their colonel wounded ; but nothing of Mercer him- 
self. His excellency galloped along our line, ordering 
us to form in the wood. We wanted to push on ; but 
he reined up his horse in front of us, and gave orders 
to halt. Every eye was on him ; for he was opposite 
the enemy's fire, and we expected to see him fall. 
But, the next minute, he galloped directly through 
their shower of cannon-shot, and rallied Mercer's 
men on a little ridge, near the road. By this time, 
the Virginia boys joined us, when we could wait no 
longer ; but rushed on, cheering as loud as we could, 
and pouring our fire, hot and heavy, on the regiment 
that had defeated Mercer. Then Washington opened 
with his cannon, from the ridge ; and for awhile they 
made the earth shake. I was in a regular battle, at 
last ; yet it did n't seem like one, after all. I always 
expected to be frightened half to death ; and that I 'd 
run, if I could get off, without looking behind. But 
"it 's true, soldiers, I was n't half so cowardly as I had 
been the day before, in camp," 

"That's the way I felt at first," remarked one, 
12* 



138 THE CAMP-FIRE 

whose first practical acquaintance with war, had been 
at the Brandy wine. " Before I saw a red-coat, thinks 
I, Tommy, how will you stand up to it, when cannon- 
balls are coming ; seeing you never fired at anything 
more dangerous than rabbits ? But when the fighting 
had begun, there was so much shouting, and march- 
ing, and confusion, that I was more bewildered than 
afraid. Then the smoke covered us and the British, 
too ; so that I did n't see many fall. I cheered as loud 
as the rest, and forgot all about the danger, till the 
battle was over, and we had time, in our tents, to 
think of the poor fellows who had been killed." 

" The British could n't stand before our men," con- 
tinued Black, " when we were all together. Washing- 
ton kept in front, waving his hat, at times, to cheer 
his troops to do their duty. The enemy tried to 
drive us back, through the woods ; but we stood our 
ground, pouring a heavy fire into them without 
ceasing, and encouraging each other with loud shouts. 
They next tried to take our artillery; and, for a 
short time, the ridge on which it stood was hid behind 
fire and smoke ; so rapid were the discharges. The 
British were driven back in confusion ; and, at that 
moment, we gave them another volley of musketry, 
which at once broke their line ; Washington pushed 
after them with his cavalry, when they fled in all 
directions, and were soon followed by two other regi- 
ments, that were near Princeton. Washington then 



AT SKIPPACK CREEK. 139 

despatched a party, to break down the bridge ; and 
afterwards, with his whole army, entered the town." 

" What became of Mercer's body ?" enquired one 
of the party 

"After he was bayoneted by the British, he re- 
mained on the field — not dead, but mortally wounded. 
When the battle was over. Major Armstrong found 
him on the ground, insensible from the cold, and with 
all his wounds frozen stiff. The major and his men 
carried their general to Clark's farm-house, where he 
was laid upon a bed. Two young Quaker women 
attended him, and did all they could to ease his suf- 
ferings. While they were dressing his wounds, a 
party of British approached, and Mercer advised the 
Americans to fly. The general was made prisoner, 
but he died the next day. This British party was a 
detachment from Lord Cornwallis's army. When he 
found out, in the morning, that Washington had es- 
caped, he retreated so fast towards Brunswick, that 
he reached Princeton just as our rear parties were 
leaving it. 

" When his excellency started from the Assanpink, 
he designed marching at once to Brunswick, where 
the British had large stores of ammunition, provi- 
sions, and clothing, without much of a guard. But 
the battle at Princeton had hindered him ; and now, 
since Cornwallis was so near, he began to think of 
the condition of his men. We had n't slept any for 



140 THE CAMP-FIRE 

two nights, nor tasted food since the morning before. 
Some were so weak and tired, that they had to be 
supported by their companions; and if Cornwallis 
had attacked us while in this condition, the whole 
army would have been cut to pieces. Washington 
therefore turned aside from his first route, and pro- 
ceeded, as fast as he could, first to Kingston, and then 
to Pluckemin. Every bridge we crossed was torn up, 
to stop the enemy's pursuit. We learned afterwards, 
that the British did n't dream of pursuing ; for they 
were very much alarmed, on hearing of the battle at 
Princeton. 

" When our men reached Pluckemin, some of them 
fell down in the woods, and could not be roused, 
although the weather was bitter cold. They were 
carried into quarters, half dead, rather than asleep. 
The others sat down on the ground, waiting for fires 
to be kindled, and the food to be dealt out. They 
tore the bread and meat like wild beasts, and then 
fell asleep. Many caught colds and other diseases, 
from which they did n't recover all winter ; and none 
of us were able to march straight for more than a 
week." 

" Why did n't the British cross the river to Phila- 
delphia, then, when they had so good a chance?" 
enquired Whilden. 

" Their chance was n't so good," Black answered. 
" Sometimes there was too much ice for boats to row 



AT SKIPPACK CREEK. 141 

against ; and when the river did happen to be frozen 
across, the ice was too weak to bear an army. Neither 
had the British any notion of making the attempt. 
They thought Washington's army was a great deal 
larger than it really was ; and all the garrisons which 
had lined the river-side, before Christmas, left their 
quarters, and hurried as fast as they could toward 
New York. Besides, you know Washington soon 
went into his winter's camp, at Morristown ; and here 
he watched them close enough all winter, ready to 
march down and attack their rear, the moment they 
made any such attempt. 

" It was at Morristown, that we got full informa- 
tion of the sufferings of the poor inhabitants, while 
they were under British rule. They had been pro- 
mised security if they remained in their own houses ; 
and as great numbers did so. General Howe gave 
them papers, which he called ^protections.' They 
were to show them to the soldiers, if they came to 
their houses ; after doing which, Howe pretended the 
people who had these papers would not be injured. 
But, as soon as Washington had been driven across 
the Delaware, the British and Hessians spread them- 
selves over the whole country, to hunt for plunder. 
Every house that they came across was robbed ; the 
fowls were seized and put into bags ; and not an ox, 
horse, or cow, was left in the barn-yard. When the 
farmers showed their papers, the Hessians laughed, 



142 THE 'camp-fire 

and swore in Dutch ; and the British would n't read 
them, because they said they had as much right as 
any one, to have some of the plunder. If the people 
were n't tories, their chairs, tables, and other little 
articles, were piled together and burned ; the windows 
and doors were broken to pieces ; and men, women, 
and children, beat and abused. Hundreds were 
stripped naked, and turned into the woods ; and, in 
different places, such horrible cruelties were com- 
mitted by these savages, that our blood boiled when 
we heard of them. Sad it would have been for our 
country, if they had got to Philadelphia, before the 
battle of Trenton; but you see, soldiers. Providence 
did n't allow it. There would have been a rising in 
the Jerseys, at any rate ; for the inhabitants could n't 
endure their sufferings much longer. Many of them 
had to live in the woods, in the coldest weather 5 for 
their houses had been burned down, and the savage 
Hessians were hunting for them in all directions. In 
some places, the inhabitants had nothing to eat ex- 
cept roots, and potatoes, so bad that they had been 
kept for hogs. But, as soon as the enemy had been 
defeated, the people flew to arms. For some weeks, 
they came pouring into camp, swearing vengeance 
against their oppressors. They never, they said, 
would show quarter to a Hessian ; and, in spite of 
the general's orders, they cut many a prisoner's throat, 
in the woods. This was one thing that struck terror 



AT SKIPPACK CREEK. 143 

into the British ; for they knew that when the people 
they had abused should once rise, there would be no 
mercy shown them. It was the remembrance of these 
outrages, that made the militia fight like veterans; 
and in a few weeks we cleared nearly all the Jerseys 
of the British and Hessians." 

Such was the young soldier's narrative of the winter 
campaign in New Jersey. 



THE CAMP-FIRE AT GERMANTOWN. 

Towards the close of a pleasant day, in the autumn 
of 1777, there might have been seen, sitting by a fire, 
in the camp at Germantown, three veteran officers of 
the American army. One appeared, by his attitude 
and gestures, to be entertaining the other two with a 
recital of some adventure which he had witnessed. 
Let us listen to their conversation. 

"Ah!" said Captain Peterson, the narrator, "I 
remember him well — that brave young soldier, Ar- 
thur Stewart. I will tell you what I know of his 
history ; it will serve to pass away the time." 

His companions drew their camp-stools nearer the 
fire, evidently expecting a rare treat; for Captain 
Peterson was celebrated for his good stories, and was 
as fond of " spinning a long yarn," as a sailor ; but 
his narratives were generally strictly true. 

"Arthur Stewart, poor boy," began the Captain, 
" was born and reared in the old Bay State — a State 
worthy to claim such a native. He manifested, very 
early in life, a fearless and warlike disposition. He 

(144) 



pi'l 




'iiJi: (>Fii(i:i;s cakoi sim; at \ i;i;i'1, a xck's i'(»i.\'i' 



THE CAMP-FIRE AT GERMANTOWN. 145 

accordingly joined a company of volunteers, at the 
beginning of the war, in the year '75, and is in the 
army now, I believe, but I can't tell where he is 
stationed. When he first enlisted, he was in that 
division of the army, which was under the command 
of General Putnam. Captain Wetherbe commanded 
the company to which he belonged. The captain 
well understood the warlike merits of the stripling; 
but Stewart was not personally known to Putnam — 
indeed, it would have been mere luck and chance, if 
he had been. He had already signalized himself in 
two or three hard-fought battles ; and, but for his 
extreme youth, would, at the time of which I am 
about to speak, have been promoted to the rank of 
ensign, or lieutenant. The incidents which I am 
about to relate, occurred just on the eve of the battle 
at White Plains. 

" The British army was encamped within two miles 
of the Americans. The two armies had been watch- 
ing each other's movements for several days, without 
coming to a general engagement. At length, one 
evening, both armies were making the necessary 
preparations for the night's rest; expecting, on the 
morrow, to try the precarious fortunes of a general 
engagement. The captains of the several companies 
had already designated those who were to stand guard 
during the night, except Captain Wetherbe, who had 
selected all his, with the exception of one. He was 
13 K 



146 THE CAMP-FIRE 

busily engaged in looking through his company, for a 
soldier to fill the vacancy, when, as good or bad for- 
tune — I don't know which — would have it. General 
Putnam passed that way. As he approached, the 
captain was in the act of calling Arthur Stewart, a 
beardless boy then, from the ranks, to act as a sen- 
tinel during the night. The general, with mingled 
emotions of surprise and anger, stepped up to the 
captain, and taking him a little on one side, said : 
'Captain Wetherbe, what is the meaning of this? 
Are you so thoughtless and imprudent as to select 
this boy for a sentinel ? a boy who has just left his 
leading-strings, to discharge the most responsible 
duties of a soldier ! You know that the British army 
is almost within musket-shot of the American lines ! 
Are we not in imminent danger of being attacked to- 
night ? or, at least, of having the British spies disco- 
vering our movements ? I beg you to look a little to 
this matter.' 'Your fears are entirel}'- groundless,' 
replied Wetherbe. * I know the boy ; and I would be 
willing to sleep under the very guns of a British fort, 
with Arthur Stewart to watch over me. There 's not 
another soldier in my company, I would choose sooner 
than him — either for sentinel, or anything else. I 
am certain that he will do his duty to-night.' * Do 
as you please, then,' answered Putnam ; ' I have con- 
fidence in your judgment ;' and he turned, and walked 
away. 



AT GERMANTOTVN. 147 

"It SO happened, that this conversation, though 
intended to be carried on aside, was overheard by 
Stewart, and several others. I do n't know how it is, 
but there is an unaccountable sensibility in the organ 
of hearing, whenever we suspect we are ourselves the 
subject of remark — especially animadversion. 

" Stewart had taken his post as sentinel, during 
the first part of the night. It so happened that Gen- 
eral Putnam had occasion to pass outside the lines. 
On his way, he did not encounter Arthur Stewart, 
but another sentinel ; who, ascertaining that it was 
the general, immediately allowed him to pass. After 
being absent a short time, he made towards the lines, 
as though he intended to return. In his course, he 
encountered Sfewart. 'Who goes there?' enquired 
the sentinel. 'General Putnam,' was the reply. 
' We know no General Putnam here,' Stewart an- 
swered. ' But / am General Putnam,' returned that 
person; by this time growing somewhat earnest. 
' Give me the countersign,' returned Stewart. It so 
happened, that the general had somewhat unaccount- 
ably forgotten what the countersign was ; or at least 
could nut, at the moment, call it to mind. ' I have 
forgotten it,' was the reply. ' This is a pretty story 
from the lips of General Putnam. You are a British 
officer, sent over here as a spy,' returned Stewart, who 
was well aware that he was addressing Putnam ; for 
the moon was shining brightly, and revealed the 



148 THE CAMP-FIRE 

features of the general ; but he had the staff in his 
own hand, and he meant to use it. ^ I warrant you, 
I am not,' said the general ; and he attempted to pass 
on. ' Pass that line. Sir, and you are a dead man !' 
exclaimed Stewart, at the same time cocking his gun. 
' Stop where you are, or I '11 make you stop !' con- 
tinued the sentinel, as the general disregarded his 
first notice. Hastily raising his gun to his shoulder, 
and taking a somewhat deliberate aim, he pulled the 
trigger ; but, from some reason or other, the discharge 
did not follow. ' Hold ! hold !' exclaimed Putnam. 
*I do hold,' was the reply. 'The gun holds its 
charge a great deal better than I intended it should ;' 
immediately priming his musket for a second trial. 
' You are not priming that gun for me ?' asked Put- 
nam, anxiously. ' That depends entirely upon cir- 
cumstances. I warn you, once more, not to pass 
those lines.' ' But I am your general,' continued 
Putnam. ' I deny it, unless you give the counter- 
sign.' Here the general was at fault. He strove to 
recall the important word; but all was in vain. 
' Boy,' said he, ' do you not know me ? I am General 
Putnam.' 'A British officer, more like. If you are 
Putnam, as you say, why don't you give me the 
countersign ? So sure as I 'm my mother's son, if you 
attempt to pass the lines, I '11 make cold-meat of you. 
I 'm a sentinel. I know my duty ; though there are 
some people in the world, who are marvellously in- 




GENERAL PUTNAM AND THE SENTINEL. 



AT GERMANTOWN. 149 

clined to question it.' At this, Putnam, finding that 
further parley would be useless, desisted; and the 
boy, deliberately shouldering his musket, began, with 
a great deal of assumed haughtiness, to pace the 
ground as before. 

" Here was the redoubtable General Putnam, the 
hero of a hundred battles, kept at bay by a stripling 
of seventeen ! This scene, in my humble judgment, 
would have been a fine subject for a painter's pencil. 
Putnam, finding that the boy was in earnest — for he 
had had alarming proof of it — durst not,* for his life, 
proceed a step further. He waited until Stewart was 
relieved ; when the other sentinel, finding he was, in 
truth, General Putnam, allowed him to pass without 
giving the countersign. But the general's feelings 
were terribly excited. He knew, in his inmost soul, 
that the boy had done nothing but his duty ; still, he 
felt that he had been most egregiously insulted. 
Had Stewart permitted him to pass without giving 
the countersign, and he had proved to be a British 
spy, the boy, according to the rules of war, would 
have been shot for his negligence. This was the 
manner in which Putnam's intellect reasoned; but 
his feelings by no means coincided with it. It is a 
terrible warfare, when a man's feelings come to an 
open rupture with his sound judgment; and such 
cases are by no means rare. 

" General Putnam had determined, on returning to 
13* 



150 THE CAMP-FIRE 

his quarters, to punish the boy severely ; but, after a 
Httle calm reflection on the subject, he felt somewhat 
difierently about it. A sense of honor and justice 
returned ; and, sending for the boy on the morrow, 
he thus addressed him : ' You are the lad who stood 
sentinel, on the left wing of the army, last night, I 
believe ?' ' I am,' replied Stewart. ' Did you know 
the man who encountered you, while at your post ?' 
continued the general. ' I suspected who he might 
be,' returned the boy. ' Then why did you not per- 
mit him to pass V enquired Putnam, rather sharply. 
' I should have forfeited the reputation of being a 
vigilant sentinel, had I done so,' replied Stewart, 
without any "hesitation. ' That's right,' said the gen- 
eral; 'you did just as I myself would have done, 
had I been in your place. We have nothing to fear 
from the British, or any other enemy, with such 
soldiers as you. Discipline is the soul of an army !' 
and taking from his purse a piece of gold, he pre- 
sented it to the boy ; at the same time charging him 
never to forfeit the character he had already acquired. 
Arthur was, shortly afterwards, promoted to the rank 
of ensign." 

"A fine fellow, that same Arthur Stewart!" ejacu- 
lated one of his auditors, after Captain Peterson had 
concluded. 

" My sentiments exactl}^," replied the captain. 
"He will yet distinguish himself, I warrant; for 



AT GERMANTOWN. 151 

he has every qualification requisite in a soldier, and I 
should not wonder in the least, at hearing that he 
had signalized himself at Saratoga ; for that is where 
I think he must be at this time, with General Gates's 
army." 



THE CAMP-FIRE AT VALLEY FORGE. 

The name of Valley Forge will long be remem- 
bered, as one of the remarkable places of the Revolu- 
tion. It is situated about twenty miles from the city 
of Philadelphia. When, on the 18th of December, 
1777, Washington gave orders to establish a fortified 
camp on this spot, which is bounded, on one side, by 
the river Schuylkill, and on the others by ridges of 
hills, the ground was covered with woods. This 
timber, the commander-in-chief determined should 
furnish materials for the necessary dwellings, to afford 
shelter to the army. Accordingly, the trees were 
felled for this purpose, and huts constructed of the 
logs ; the dimensions of each being sixteen feet by 
fourteen. One hut was assigned to twelve privates ; 
and one to a smaller number of officers, according to 
their rank. A general officer had a whole hut to 
himself. These rude dwellings were arranged in 
parallel lines, where the shape of the ground would 
admit ; and, when the encampment was completed, it 
had the appearance of a town, with streets and ave- 

(152) 



THE CAMP-FIRE AT VALLEY FORGE. 153 

nues. The soldiers from the same State, inhabited 
the same street or quarter. The whole encampment 
was surrounded, on the land side, by intrenchments ; 
and a bridge was thrown across the river, to establish 
a communication with the country in that direction. 

Here it was that the American army underwent 
sufferings such as have scarcely a parallel in military 
history. On their march to the spot, over the hard, 
frozen ground, such was their destitute condition, 
with respect to clothing, that they presented a pitiable 
spectacle ; and their course might have been traced 
on the ground, by the blood drawn from their bare 
feet upon the march. While hutted at Valley Forge, 
at one time, no less than 2898 men were unfit for 
duty, because barefoot, and otherwise naked; and 
this, be it remembered, in the depth of winter. Only 
eighty-two hundred men, fit for duty, could have been 
mustered to resist the attack of General Howe's 
numerous and well-appointed army, had that officer 
seen fit to march but twenty miles from his comfort- 
able quarters in Philadelphia, for the purpose of 
trying the fortune of war. 

Washington's letters, written at this dark period of 
the war, disclose not only the melancholy facts of the 
case, but the causes from which they resulted; namely, 
the inertness of Congress, the apathy of the people, 
and the wretched system, or rather no system, of 
supplies, which prevailed at that time. He remarks, 



154 THE CAMP-FIRE 

in one of these letters : " Upon the ground of safety 
and policy, I am obliged to conceal the true state of 
the army from public view, and thereby expose my- 
self to calumny and detraction." 

Incapacity in the commissariat department of the 
army is glaringly apparent, from the fact, that, at the 
very time when the army was suffering so severely 
for want of clothing, hogsheads of shoes, stockings, 
and other wearing apparel, intended for the soldiers, 
were lying at different places, upon the road and in 
the woods, useless, for want of teams and proper 
management, and of ready money, to pay the team- 
sters for their transportation. 

On a certain night, in the middle of this disastrous 
winter, in one of the huts appointed for the accom- 
modation of the Massachusetts line, three men might 
be seen sitting around a fire, and discoursing on the 
events of the war, by way of beguiling the dreary 
hours of darkness. These men were literally com- 
pelled to sit up by the fire all night, for want of a 
sufficient supply of blankets to accommodate the 
whole twelve who occupied the hut. The other nine, 
having blankets, could sleep ; and, on the next night, 
three of them would have to take their turn of 
watching. 

They conversed in a low tone, so as not to disturb 
the sleepers in the surrounding bunks, or berths ; but, 
occasionally, exciting themes raised their voices, till 



AT VALLEY FORGE> 155 

a warning snort, from some half-awakened sleeper, 
would remind them of their want of caution ; and 
then their tones would sink into a stern whisper. 

" I say, Ira Lawrence," said one of these soldiers, 
John Downing by name, a stalwart fellow, standing 
some six and a half feet without shoes ; " I say, Ira, 
what would our friends in Groton think, if they could 
know what we are doing, and what we are suffering 
at this blessed minute ?" 

" I guess," replied Ira, " they would think we were 
tarnation fools for 'listing in the army at all. I do n't 
care, though, what they might think. I aint a-going 
to write home about it. My old man told me I might 
go ; though I was only nineteen, and he wanted me 
desputly on the farm ; and I won't make him and 
mother uneasy, by telling tales out o' school. We 're 
in for it now, and I go for facing it out as a man 
ought to." 

" Well said, Ira, — well said !" replied Downing. 
" You 're a little fellow ; but you 've got the real grit 
in you. You 're a regular full-blooded Yankee, and 
an honor to the Bay State, though you're but just 
tall enough to pass muster. I like your sentiment ; 
I honor your spunk !" 

" It 's mighty aggrivoking, though," said Joe Shaw, 
the third man of the party ; a raw-boned, keen-looking 
fellow, of middling stature, in a ragged uniform, and 
three-cornered hat, seldom removed from his head; 



156 THE CAMP-FIRE 

" yes, it is a leetle too prevoking to think how nicely 
them tarnal red-coats are enjoying themselves in their 
snug quarters in the city, while we, the rightful 
owners of this here sile, have to sit up all night, over 
a fire of pitch-pine knots, for want of blankets to 
sleep in ! It is a leetle too much for human patience 
to stand." 

" Well," said Ira, " it is hard. That 's a fact. But 
it 's a great comfort to me, to know that we are bound 
to pitch it into 'em pretty strong, next spring. We '11 
make 'em suffer !" 

" Do n't you think," said Joe, " that the army will 
be in a nice, suitable 'frame of mind/ as Deacon 
Tibbets calls it, for fighting, next spring, if this freez- 
ing and starving goes on all winter ?" 

"Well," replied Ira, with a long, slender, nasal 
drawl, " I guess they will. I feel as if I could kill a 
red-coat, and eat him, too, this minute." 

" I like your sentiment, Ira," said John Downing, 
stretching out his herculean arms, and bringing his 
fists together with a crushing blow ; at the same time, 
grinning a formidable defiance, and hissing out an 
"Ah! ah! hah! Wouldn't I like to have here, at 
arm's length before me, any one of the murdering 
blackguards, that gave the people so much trouble 
over in Jarsey, last winter, burning, plundering, 
and ravishing ! If I stay here in these clearings 
for one thing more than another, it is for the chance 



AT VALLEY FORGE. 157 

of a dig at some of those infernal villains, with my 
bagonet!'"^ 

" With them etarnal long arms of yourn," said Ira, 
" you could stick a grenadier half a mile off, and lift 
him clean over your head. You must be a mighty 
ugly customer, John, in a bagonet skrimmage. Have 
you had much practice in that 'air' line?" 

" I have had some, I guess, before you j'ined our 
company. There was that kick-up we had about the 
oxen, last fall, over on t' other side of the Jarseys. 
Did n't I never tell ye about that ?" 

" Never a word," replied Joe. 

" Well, that was warm work, I guess," rejoined the 
tall soldier. 

" Pray tell us all about it," said Joe. 

" Well, it 's a long story, and we must have some 
more pitch-knots on the fire, before I begin ;" and, at 
the word, both of John's comrades hastened to heap 
more wood on the fire. This done, they assumed the 
most comfortable sitting posture for listening, while 
Long John stood up at his full length, before the 
blazing light of the pitch-knots, and commenced his 
narrative. 

" It was in the airly part of last fall — in Septem- 
ber, I guess — when I was one of a detachment of light 

* All of the Continental rank and file with whom the writer has 
conversed, used this pronunciation for 'bayonet;' and they called a 
three-cornered hat, a ' bagonet- hat.' 

14 



158 THE CAMP-FIRE 

infantry, some three thousand strong, that General 
"Washington had sent to guard some fat cattle, that 
had been bought by the commissary, for the army. 
I vow, Ira, I wish we had one of them same oxen 
here now, for our mess ! 

" Oh, go ahead with your story," said Ira, " and let 
the mess alone." 

" "Well, as I was saying, these cattle were feeding 
on a piece of intervale land ; I guess there was about 
three hundred acres in the lot, with all the timber 
and wood cleared off; and it lay between a piece of 
thick woods and the river." 

" "What river ?" enquired Ira. 

" Why, the North River, to be sure. I told you it 
was on the other side of Jarsey, right over against 
York State." 

" Oh, yes, I understand," returned Ira ; " but who 
commanded the detachment ?" 

" "Who but the Marquis de La Fayette !" was the 
answer. 

" Du tell !" exclaimed Ira, with wide-open eyes and 
mouth. 

" Well ! I never !" ejaculated Joe ; these exclama- 
tions expressing the very acme of Yankee astonish- 
ment. 

" You never told us before, that you had been in a 
fight under the Marquis." 

" Well," returned John, " if you will only shut up 



AT VALLEY FORGE. 159 

your etarnal clam-shells, I '11 tell ye all about it, now. 
We '11 never have a better chance ; for we 've got the 
whole night before us; and we may be frozen or 
starved to death, before our turn comes round to 
watch again." 

" Go ahead, then — go ahead." 

"Well, as I was a-saying, our detachment was 
stationed about five miles from the intervale lot that 
I spoke of, where the cattle were being pastured ; and 
our business was to see that the cattle were not stolen 
away by the enemy. The intervale, you understand, 
was on a point of land running out into the river ; 
and our men were on the neck ; so that the cattle 
could n't have been reached, from the land-side, with- 
out a bit of a brush with us." 

" But the regulars could come in sloops and trans- 
ports," said Ira. 

" Yes, you may say that," replied John ; " and they 
were always mighty hungry after fat beef. But you 
shall hear the upshot of the business. One morning, 
just about the break of day, I was standing sentry, 
on the side of our encampment next to the cattle, 
which, as I said before, were full five miles from 
where we lay. I was thinking about home, and cal- 
culating that father might be pretty well through 
with harvesting his winter rye, when I heard some 
fellow trotting along over the ground pretty consider- 
able hard, and coming right towards me. I hailed 



160 THE CAMP-FIRE 

him just as he came out of the bushes. ' Who goes 
there?' 'A friend/ says he. 'Advance and give the 
countersign !' sajs I. ' I do n't know the countersign ; 
but the regulars is landing from the river ; and if you 
do n't make haste, they '11 carry off all your fat cattle, 
in their launches !' By this time, the man, who was 
a Jarsey countryman, was standing right before me. 
Seeing he was a little fellow, not more than five feet 
ten, I just grabbed him by the collar, with my right 
hand, and cocked and discharged my piece in the air, 
with my left. 

" ' Now,' says I, ' my good fellow, if what you say 
is true, you '11 get rewarded for your news ; but if 
you 've been giving a false alarm, you '11 catch it, or 
my name 's not Jack Downing.' ' It 's as true as 
preaching,' said the countryman. 

" In five minutes, the guard was upon us in force. 
They carried ofi" the fellow to the Marquis's quarters ; 
and, in fifteen minutes more, our regiment was ordered 
to march down to the point in double-quick time. 
Our colonel was Rufus Putnam, a nephew of the gen- 
eral." 

" What — Old Put ?" enquired Ira. 

" Old Put, himself. This nephew is a chip of the 
old block, too, I can tell you ; as cool as a peach, and 
as wide awake, when the smell of gunpowder is 
about, as Old Put himself. We were mustered in a 
hurry, and the way we marched over that five miles 



AT VALLEY FORGE. 161 

of rough ground, was a caution to continentallers ! 
It was n't running ; but it was a sample of the tallest 
kind of walking that ever I experienced ; and you 
know I aint slow at that exercise." 

" When we had got pretty near to the edge of the 
woods, the colonel ordered the adjutant to go forward 
and see where the regulars were, and how many they 
mustered. The adjutant came back pretty soon, and 
reported that they were forming, on the shore, in 
three columns ; and that each of the columns, as near 
as he could calculate, was about a thousand strong. 
The colonel rose right up in his stirrups, and pointing 
back with his sword, he says, ' Then ride back to the 
camp, as fast as you can go, and tell Lafayette to 
come on !' Off went the adjutant, like an arrow from 
King Philip's bow, and Colonel Putnam rode right up 
to my captain. It was Captain Daniel Shays — a 
good officer, and a right clever man to his soldiers. 
' Well, Captain Shays,' says he, ' shall we be a-playing 
with them a little, till the general comes ?' ' That 
must be as you please,' was our captain's answer. 

" In a minute after, we were ordered to advance 
out of the woods, to the open land upon the point. 
Here we could see the whole force of the enemy, and 
the whole game the rascally red-coats were playing. 
There were their three thousand men, all ready to 
steal our fat cattle, and carry them off, or to shoot us 
down, if we said ^ Nay.' 

14* L 



162 THE CAMP-FIRE 

" Pretty soon we received some volleys of musketry 
from the regulars, and the cannon from the shipping 
began to roar. Says I to myself, 'Jack Downing, 
you '11 never see old Groton again ; for there are 
regulars enough to eat up your regiment without 
salt.' But Colonel Putnam rode back and forth, be- 
fore his regiment, as cool and as calm as though he 
was only parading us for inspection, while the balls 
were whistling about our ears in every direction. 

" At length we commenced ; and we worked mighty 
fast, boys, I can tell ye ; and, for one regiment, made 
a pretty considerable noise. That loading and firing, 
to keep an enemy, five or six times your number, in 
check, is rayther warm work. Presently, the corporal 
at my left hand was shot right through the body, 
and fell at my feet. There he lay, — bleeding, gasp- 
ing, dying. I had never seen a man killed so near 
me before, and I must say I felt kind of streaked. 
Captain Shays stepped forward, close to me. ' John,' 
says he, ' never mind it ; I will take his place ;' and 
he was as good as his word. He took the corporal's 
gun, and began blazing away with it, at the enemy, 
as cool as if he was beginning a day's work, in the 
haying season. I always liked that Captain Shays. 
He was the best captain I have ever served under 
yet. He is bold to the enemy, and always kind to 
his men. He stood shoulder to shoulder with me, 
through the rest of that fight. 



AT VALLEY FORGE. 163 

" I was loading my gun for the twenty-second time, 
when General Lafayette, with the main body of the 
infantry, came dashing out of the woods in our rear. 
Never shall I forget the feeling of that moment, when 
I first heard the sound of their old continental drums ! 
^Now, John,' said Captain Shays, '^we'll give it to 
them !' 

" The main body formed at once on our left ; — 
coming up beautifully into line, all eager for the fray. 
Lafayette rode along in front of our line. He is a 
splendid officer ; and never did he so completely fill 
my eye, as at that moment. Though he is slight — 
a mere stripling in appearance — his eye is full of 
fire, and his motions are all alert, and full of soldierly 
spunk and decision. 

"As he came near to the colonel of our regiment, 
he said : — 

" ' Colonel Putnam, how dare you fire before I 
arrived ?' 

" ' Oh," said the colonel, " I thought I would be 
playing with them, a little.' 

" Lafayette at that moment seemed full of energy 
and fire. Turning towards the line, with a loud and 
distinct voice, he gave the order : — 

" ' We fire ? — no ! Let the whole line charge bag- 
onets ! — Rush on, and drive them into the river !' 

"At these words, the boys seemed to feel the 
breath of a new life breathed into them. We did 



164 THE CAMP-FIRE AT VALLEY FORGE. 

rush on, with bagonets levelled ; and such a horrible 
carnage I never saw. 

"At first, the British charged to meet us; but they 
couldn't stand against the Yankee boys that day. 
The reinforcement of fresh troops, added to our regi- 
ment, who had already shown that we could keep 
them at bay, seemed to strike a sort of panic into 
them ; and when our line struck theirs, and we were 
all engaged, they fairly turned tail, and ran with all 
their might for the shore, in hopes to escape to their 
boats. We were not slow in following them, and we 
drove them pell-mell into the water. Hundreds that 
escaped our bagonets, were drowned before their boats 
could take them up ; and, out of the whole three 
thousand men who landed on the point that morning, 
full of hope and courage, and hungry for our fat 
beeves, scarcely fifteen hundred made out to get on 
board of the vessels ! 

" Now, boys, you 've heard a great deal of bragging 
about the British bagonet. Here was a fair stand-up 
fight, of equal numbers ; and that was the way we 
walked into British soldiers, with the American bag- 
onet !" 



THE CAMP-FIRE AT WHITEMARSH. 

After the disastrous repulse of the American 
forces, at Germantown, they encamped in a strong 
position, at a place called Whitemarsh, about fourteen 
miles from Philadelphia. Here, after the hard service 
of the campaign, the soldiers were glad to secure a 
little rest. The winter was coming on, and they 
suffered beyond description, from the want of clothes 
and shoes ; even provision and forage were obtained 
with difficulty ; it being sometimes necessary to pro- 
cure them by coercive measures, which Washington, 
with his usual judgment, was loth to make use of. 
His army had received several reinforcements from 
the north ; but Washington determined not to meet 
Sir William Howe, who had also received a reinforce- 
ment from New York, and was anxious for another 
battle. He kept the position he had chosen, but sent 
out light infantry to skirmish with the enemy, who 
took post at Chestnut Hill, about three miles from 
the right of the American camp, and manoeuvred, for 
three days, in the front and on the flanks of our army. 

(165) 



166 THE CAMP-FIRE 

It is one of these parties of skirmishers who will 
now engage our attention. The company consisted 
of about a hundred men, and had been detached from 
a larger force. Night had overtaken them in the 
midst of their service ; and it being too dark to pro- 
ceed any further with safety, they encamped for the 
night, on the edge of a wood. Great precautions 
were taken, to prevent the party from being disco- 
vered by the enemy; but, in consequence of the 
intense cold, it was necessary to have fires, to keep 
life in the men. Accordingly, a large fire was made 
at some distance in the wood, in such a manner, that 
it could not be seen by persons out of it. The whole 
party, by cutting down some of the small trees around 
the fire, made themselves comfortable positions near 
it, while two of their number were stationed on the 
edge of the wood, as sentinels. These were to be 
changed every two hours during the night, in order 
to give a share of the burden to each. The party 
around the fire seated themselves, and partook of the 
scant fare which they had with them ; after which, 
those who were nearest the fire tried to snatch a little 
repose. The sentinels warmed themselves thoroughly, 
and having borrowed some little addition to their poor 
clothing, which their generous comrades could not 
refuse, they repaired to their post. They were a 
singular-looking set of men — these soldiers — with 
their ragged dress and gaunt forms. Their sufferings 



AT WHITEMARSH. 167 

were expressed too well in their faces ; but, amidst 
them all, they still had that love for their country, 
that hatred of tyranny, and that undaunted courage, 
which, in the end, made them triumph over the best- 
disciplined and the best-equipped armies. But it is 
the conversation of the two sentinels which must now 
interest us. 

It was a bitter cold night, and the two men paced 
up and down, over the frozen ground, flapping their 
arms against their sides, to keep the blood in circula- 
tion ; their muskets being occasionally laid upon the 
ground, as a troublesome incumbrance. The night 
was very dark, and the wind whistled through tlfe 
branches of the trees, which creaked in harsh accom- 
paniment. 

" John," said one of the sentinels to his comrade, 
at length, "what would you give for a bowl of hot 
coffee, and a pleasant fire, such a night as this ?" 

" Phew !" replied John, " do n't talk about it. I 'd 
almost give victory to the English, in the next battle 
we have with them ; and that 's about the most valu- 
able thing I know of, just now." 

" I was thinkin' how it would go down ; and the 
very thought of such fare, almost makes me a traitor," 
continued the other. "But, by the bye, a victory 
to the English is something we could n't afford to give 
just now, after that murderous affair at German- 
town." 



168 THE CAxMP-FIRE 

" Well, Bob/' said John, " if there had been a few 
more men at Brandywine, and had those that were 
there been in a little better trim, there would n't have 
been any affair at Germantown." 

" Ah !" Bob replied, " there's a Providence in all 
these things, depend upon it." 

" You were sick at the time most of the fighting 
was done ; were n't you ?" enquired John. 

" Yes ; but I 've heard most of the particular's 
since," was the reply. 

" Though we were whipped in the end, there was 
some tough fightin' done there, mind I tell you," said 
.Tolin. " You ought to have seen young Lafayette — 
the French general that's just appointed." 

" They say he 's not of age yet," returned Bob. " I 
do n't think it was quite right, to appoint a mere boy 
a major-general, when there's plenty of older and 
more experienced men in the army." 

"Yes," answered John; "but you must recollect 
what he has sacrificed for the sake of our cause ; be- 
sides, if you had seen him that day, you would n't 
think that Congress had gone far wrong, in appointing 
him a major-general." 

" Well, if you saw him, let me hear what he did, 
and I '11 tell you, afterwards, what I think of him," 
said Bob. " But let us walk a little quicker, for my 
limbs are getting stiff.' 

"Well, d'ye see," commenced John, quickening 



AT WHITEMARSH. 169 

his pace, and blowing upon his hands to warm them, 
" I was with the troops under his command that day. 
The whole detachment was commanded by General 
Sullivan. When we got wind of the crossin' of the 
Brandywine by Cornwallis, and that he had posted 
himself on the heights there, near Birmingham 
meetin'-house, we marched to meet him. We had 
just arrived there, and General Sullivan was formin' 
his line for battle, when the whole of Cornwallis's 
force rushed down on us. We fought there for a 
while like men ; but they soon broke our right, and 
the lines were thrown into confusion. The men were 
all retreatin' as fast as they could, when Lafayette, 
the young French general, rode in among 'em, and 
with his sword raised, and eyes that looked as if he 
felt ashamed to see them run, tried to persuade 'em 
to stop ; but no, the British were on them in a hurry, 
and they either could n't or would n't. Then, — I '11 
never forget it, — that ' boy,' as you called him, showed 
how much man there was in him. He threw himself 
from his horse, and rallied some few men, who were 
ashamed to run, like himself, and took a stand. A 
few more rallied to support him, and I was among 
'em. We fought there like bull-dogs, with the red- 
coated- bulls, and kept 'em at bay, too. But there 
was too many for us, and we could n't stand it long. 
Just then, Lafayette, who was fightin' among the men, 
like the rest of 'em, got a wound in the leg ; but he 
15 



170 THE CAMP-FIRE 

still kept on, and if we had had any support, we 'd 
have come off with a \dctory. Several of the men 
ran and caught the brave young general, and bore 
him away with us, or he would have been taken 
prisoner." 

"Well, that was a brave beginnin' for a young 
officer, that's a fact," said Bob, as his companion 
paused. "Accordin' to the tales they tell, there was 
many a brave thing done that day," 

" Yes," replied John, " I have heard tell, that Mad 
Anthony fought like a lion. He commanded the 
division at the ford, where Knyphausen crossed. His 
one division there fought one-half the British army. 
But he only fought as he always does. Mad Anthony 
never gives ground without fightin' for it." 

" The cause of the loss of that battle was n't in the 
want of pluck in the men, or of skill in the officers, 
I believe," remarked Bob. 

" No," John replied, " it was that infernal lie about 
the movements of the red-coats, that did it. If 
Washington's first orders, in regard to crossin' the 
Brandywine, had been carried out, without payin' any 
attention to the contradictory news, the battle would 
have had a different end ; but Cornwallis was left to 
cross the Brandywine without bein' molested, and 
then there was no hope for us." 

"Well," said Bob, with his usual consolatory re- 
mark, " I suppose it was to be so." 



AT WHITEMARSH. 171 

By this time, the two sentinels were nearly chilled 
tlirough, and it needed all their exertions, of trotting 
up and down, blowing their fingers, and flapping their 
arms, to keep them from freezing. However, the two 
hours were soon up j and they hastened to the fire as 
soon as they were relieved. Part of the men were 
asleep near the fire ; some with their heads in the 
laps of their comrades, and others on scraps of blan- 
kets, which they had with them. The rest were 
seated on logs, in small groups, talking about their 
adventures and sufierings, to keep themselves awake. 
One of these groups, close to the fire, our quondam 
sentinels joined. 

" Well, John," said a lanky individual, lying on his 
back on a log, " how did you find the weather, out 
there ?" 

"Ugh!" ejaculated John, shivering. "Wait till 
your turn comes, and you '11 soon find out. It '11 
freeze all the little morsel of flesh you have on your 
bones, off" of 'em in a hurry, I know." 

"What were you fellows talking about just as we 
come in ?" said Bob, after a pause. 

" Oh ! we were tryin' to beat somethin' into Joe 
Hawkins's head ; but it 's no sort of use. You might 
as well try to make a block understand," said Lanky 
Bill, as he was called. 

" Well, what were you tryin' to beat into his head ?'* 
asked Bob. 



172 THE CAMP-FIRE 

" Why, we were talkin' about the battle at German- 
town, the other day, and Joe Hawkins was contendin' 
that it was Chew's House that caused the defeat, when 
it 's plain enough that that little stoppage did n't de- 
cide the battle," said Lanky Bill, with a self-satisfied 
air. 

" No doubt," said Bob, " the obstruction offered at 
Chew's House helped considerably to do the business. 
But still I think the fog had the most to do with it." 

" Where were you that day, Bob ?" said John. 
" You was n't along with the company, I know." 

" I was sick still," said Bob. 

" Then you missed a greater fight than you 've ever 
seen," said John. " You should have been with us. 
You missed seein' the glorious revenge the boys took 
for the massacre at Paoli." 

" Did they do the thing right ?" asked Bob anxiously. 
Bob had but lately recovered from a long spell of sick- 
ness. 

" Yes, indeed," answered John. " but I '11 tell you 
all about it, just to keep you awake ; for I see your 
eyes gettin' stupid-looking. " You see, of course, we 
were with the right wing of the army, under our old 
commander, Wayne : Sullivan had the command of 
the whole wing, which was composed of the division 
of Wayne, the division of Sullivan, and Conway's 
brigade. We marched to attack Howe's army at the 
upper end of Germantown, and Sullivan and Conway 



AT WHITEMARSH. 173 

marclied to attack them on the South. The fight be- 
comiu' pretty general, we advanced on the red-coats 
with charged bagonets. You see, our boys were a 
little savage about that butcherin' at Paoli, and I 
think they could have eaten the Britishers right up. 
They did n't wait for us ; I have n't the least doubt 
they got frightened at our savage looks. They give 
way, but soon formed again ; and then we peppered 
away at each other like all the world for a spell. The 
red-coats again gave way, but bein' supported by the 
grenadiers, returned to the charge. You see, we had 
the enemy's right wing to encounter, while about two- 
thirds of our soldiers were too far north to give us any 
help. However, we made the want of men up in 
pluck, and stuck to 'em till they broke and run pell- 
mell ; and then. Bob, you ought to have seen the men. 
They did n't show any mercy. I was among 'em, as 
bad as any of the rest. The men seemed really mad ; 
and when the red-coats would ask for quarter, they 'd 
scream in their ears to " remember Paoli," and finish 
them at once. The officers were runnin' about, tryin' 
to save the poor wretches, but it was n't of much use. 
Mad Anthony lost his fine roan horse, when we were 
close to the enemy, and a spent ball struck him in the 
foot, and one grazed his left hand ; but he stuck to 
his post on foot, and cheered on the men. The fog 
and the smoke made the place almost as dark as night ; 
and I come near shootin' Joe Hawkins in mistake for 
15* 



174 THE C*AMP-FIRE 

a red-coat. Several of our men were shot in the same 
way : you could n't see twenty yards from you. We 
pushed on, however, and took possession of their 
whole camp ; but here comes the worst of the story, 
and I 'd just as leave not tell it." 

" Oh ! finish your story, John," said Lanky Bill, 
" Bob knows we were defeated, so let him hear how it 
was." 

" Well, it 's a disagreeable tiding to be talkin' about 
retreatin' after such a fight as we made there ; but I 
may as well finish my story. You see we were in 
possession of the camp of the red-coats, when a large 
body of men appeared on our left flank. The fog 
bein' so thick, of course we could n't tell whether they 
were our own troops or the enemy. The men thought 
they were red-coats, and would fall back, in sjjite of 
all the officers could do. After we had retreated 
about two miles, we found out that they were our own 
people, who were comin' up to attack the right wing 
of the enemy. After the fog cleared away, Howe 
followed us with a large body of foot and light horse, 
and Mad Anthony, who was in the rear of the army 
pickin' up stragglers, thinkin' it about as well to fight 
as run, drew us up in line of battle, and waited till 
the enemy come up. We had just a chance to throw 
a few cannon-shot into 'em, when the cowardly rascals 
run. They may glorify as much as they please about 
our loss and repulse, but it was only the weather that 



AT WHITEMARSH. 175 

kept them from gettin' as complete a defeat as they 
ever had." 

" How was that affair at Chew's house ?" asked 
Bob, interested. 

" Oh, that was with the other division ; we had 
nothing to do with that," replied John. 

" Well," continued Bob, " from all that I can hear 
about it, it was an ill-advised piece of business. But 
it 's not for us to criticise the doin's of our superiors ; 
I suppose that we were to be defeated, and that's 
enough." 

As Bob concluded this usual remark, he stretched 
himself out in front of the fire, and there was a 
silence of about half an hour. At the expiration of 
that time, John, who had been looking in the fire 
very intently all the while, musing on home and its 
comforts, we suppose, raised his head, to see if his 
companions were asleep. Lanky Bill and Joe Haw- 
kins, were still awake, but Bob was snoring melo- 
diously, in the arms of Morpheus. 

" Joe," said John, " give us a song, to keep up our 
spirits ; won't you ?" 

" Oh, I 'm not in the humor of singin' now," replied 
Joe. "Besides, I've got a cold, and my voice is 
hoarse." 

" That 's the usual prelude of all good singers," re- 
turned John. "Come, sing us something; never 
mind the hoarseness ; and as for your humor, people 



176 THE CAMP-FIRE 

must n't wait till they get in a good humor, or else 
there 'd be very little of it. Make your humor good." 
Those of the party who were awake, joined in the 
call for a song ; and Joe at last consented, and sang 
the following, to a sort of music like the chanting of 
the prose psalms, in cathedrals : — 

Since you all will have singing, and won't be said nay, 
I cannot refuse, when you so beg and pray; 
So, I'll sing you a song, — as a body may say, 
'Tis of the king's regulars, who ne'er ran away. 

the old soldiers of the king, and the king's own regulars. 

At Prestonpans we met with some rebels one day, 
We marshall'd ourselves all in comely array; 
Our hearts were aU stout, and bid our legs stay, 
But our feet were wrong-headed, and took us away. 

the old soldiers, &c. 

At Falkirk we resolved to be braver, 

And recover some credit by better behaviour; 

We would not acknowledge feet had done us any favour, 

So feet swore they would stand, but — legs ran, however. 

the old soldiers, «&c. 

No troops perform better than we at reviews, 
We march and we wheel, and whatever you choose ; 
George would see how we fight, and we never refuse, 
There we all fight with courage — you may see't in the News. 

the old soldiers, &c. 

To Monongahela, with fifes and with drums. 
We march'd in fine order, with cannon and bombs ; 



AT WHITE MARSH. 177 

That great expedition cost infinite sums, 
But a few irregulars cut us all into crumbs. 

the old soldiers, &c. 

It was not fair to shoot at us from behind trees : 

If they had stood open, as they ought, before our great guns, we should 

have beat 'em with ease ; 
They may fight with one another that way, if they please, 
But it is not regular to stand, and fight with such rascals as these. 

the old soldiers, &c. 

At Fort G-eorge and Oswego, to our great reputation, 
We show'd our vast skill in fortification; 

The French fired three guns ; of the fourth they had no occasion ; 
For we gave up those forts, — not through fear, but — mere persuasion. 

the old soldiers, &c. 

To Ticonderoga we went in a passion. 
Swearing to be revenged on the whole French nation ; 
But we soon turn'd tail without hesitation, 
Because they fought behind trees, — which is not the regular fashion. 

the old soldiers, &c. 

Lord Loudon, he was a regular general, they say ; 
With a great regular army he went his way, 
Against Louisburgh, to make it his prey. 

But return 'd — without seeing it, — for he did not feel bold that day. 

the old soldiers, &c. 

Grown proud at reviews, great G-eorge had no rest ; 
Each grandsire, he had heard, a rebellion suppress'd : 
He wish'd a rebellion, look'd round and saw none. 
So resolved a rebellion to make — of his own. 

the old soldierS; &c. 

M 



178 THE CAMP-FIRE 

The Yankees he bravely pitch'd on, because he thought they would n't 

fight, 
And so he sent us over to take away their right ; 
But lest they should spoil our review-clothes, he ciied braver and 

louder ; 
For God's sake, brother kings, don't sell the cowards — any powder! 

the old soldiers, &c. 

Our general with his council of war did advise 
How at Lexington we might the Yankees surprise ; 
We march'd and remarch'd, all surprised at being beat; 
And so our wise general's plan of sm'prise was complete. 

the old soldiers, &c. 

For fifteen miles they follow'd and pelted us : we scarce had time to 

pull a trigger j 
But did you ever know a retreat perform'd with more vigor ? 
For we did it in two hours, which saved us from perdition ; 
'T was not in going out, but in returning, consisted our expedition. 

the old soldiers, &c. 

Says our general, " We were forced to take to our arms in our own 

defence :" 
(For arms read legs, and it wiU be both truth and sense :) 
" Lord Percy, (says he,) I must say something of him in civility, 
And that is — I can never enough praise him for his great agility." 

the old soldiers, &c. 

Of their firing from behind fences he makes a great pother : 

Every fence has two sides ; they made use of one, and we only forgot 

to use the other : 
That we tm'n'd our backs and ran away so fast, do n't let that dis- 
grace us ; 



AT WHITEMARSH. 179 

'T was only to make good what Sandwich said, that the Yankees could 
not face us. the old soldiers, &c. 

As they could not get before us, how could they look us in the face ? 
We took care they should n't, by scampering away apace. 
That they had not much to brag of, is a very plain case ; 
For if they beat us in the fight, we beat them in the race. 

the old soldiers, Sk. 

The song was lengthy, and the manner in which it 
was sung, made it seem twice as long. The rest of 
the party couldn't join in the chorus, as it would 
have made too much noise, which might have been 
taken advantage of by some straggling party of the 
enemy, and have led to their surprise. 

" Where did you get that song from, Joe ?" asked 
Lanky Bill ; " and where on airth did you come 
across the chune ?" 

" Oh, I heard it in Philadelphia, and learned it just 
to amuse myself." 

The whole party agreed that the words of the song 
were well enough, but voted the tune a regular bore. 
This was but natural ; as they no doubt expected to 
hear something livelier. All hands were sinking into 
listlessness again, except those whose business it was 
to keep up the fire, when the two sentries rushed into 
the midst of them, with the intelligence that they 
had discovered a small party of the British approach- 
ing, who were evidently unconscious of being in the 
vicinity of the encampment, and had probably wan- 



180 THE CAMP-FIRE AT WHITEMARSH. 

dered from some detached jDarty of the enemy, till 
night had overtaken them. All the sleepers instantly 
sprang to their feet, and some busied themselves in 
covering the fire, while all secured their arms, to 
await the orders of the captain. The moon had risen 
in the meanwhile ; which circumstance, it was, that 
gave the sentries an opportunity of seeing the enemy 
as they approached. The whole party of Americans 
posted themselves near the edge of the wood ; but so 
separated, as to let the other party pass between 
them, when they would have them in a trap. On 
they came, unsuspecting ; their advanced guard beat- 
ing about negligently, till, without a forethought of 
the consequences, they were fairly in the wood, when 
they were instantly surrounded. A voice called out, 
" Surrender, or you die !" which staggered the British 
for awhile ; but concluding that it was a trick of a 
few men, they did not comply. A volley of musketry 
brought them to their senses ; and the leader of the 
party, seeing the dangerous position they occupied, 
called out that he surrendered. The Americans in- 
stantly appeared from all sides; thus showing the 
enemy that they had been completely surrounded. 
Several of them had been wounded, but none killed, 
by the volley of musketry sent among them. The 
prisoners were all secured, and no further incident 
occurred till morning, when they were all marched to 
the American camp, at Whitemarsh. 



THE CAMP-FIRE AT WHITE PLAINS. 

The continental troops encamped at White Plains, 
soon after the battle of Monmouth. There they re- 
mained till very late in November, when the severity 
of the weather forced them to go into winter quarters 
at Middle Brook, in Jersey. The battle of Monmouth 
had served greatly to inspirit the Americans, while 
the British had reaped no advantage from the cam- 
paign, and were, therefore, as far from gaining their 
object as ever. White Plains is the place where 
Washington encamped in October of 1776, after the 
evacuation of New York. The camp was on elevated 
ground, defended in front by two lines of intrench- 
ments, nearly parallel to each other, and between four 
and five hundred yards apart. The right wing rested 
on the Brunx, which, by making a short bend, encom- 
passed the flank and part of the rear. The left wing 
reached to a pond, or small lake, of some extent, by 
which it was effectually secured. Here the army was 
encamped from an early day in July to a late one in 
autumn of the year 1778. 

16 (181) 



182 THE CAMP-FIRE 

It was about the middle of November. The night 
was cold and dark ; and there was a prospect of snow. 
The soldiers were in their tents, and no sound dis- 
turbed the hovering stillness of the time, save the 
howling of the frost-burdened wind, and the slow, 
steady pacing of the sentinels. The severity of the 
weather visited the men while still occupying their 
canvass tents, and they were forced to endure it as 
well as they could. Fires were blazing in every tent, 
but they could not more than keep the men from 
freezing. Under one of these uncomfortable coverings 
four men were sitting round the fire, so close as to be 
very nearly scorched by it ; but close as they could 
get, every time the wind would shake the tent in its 
sweeping through the encampment, a shudder would 
follow from the men ; and they would try to get closer 
still to the fire. The blaze made the tent look cheer- 
ful, however, whether it felt so or not. 

" Luke," said one of the men, " if it 's going to be 
as cold as this all night, there 's no sleep for us, that 's 
certain." 

" Oh ! I do n't care about the sleep so much ; it 's so 
cold it makes one shiver all over when setting as close 
on to the fire as you can get," replied Luke. 

" Ugh !" said an individual, known by the name of 
Zephaniah, " Its cold enough to freeze a feller into 
stone ; or a pound of butter into a brickbat." 

" Well, I care about sleeping," said the man who 



AT WHITE PLAINS. 183 

had spoken first, " I had a very little bit of a nap last 
night." 

" You 're a sleepy concern, anyhow. You 're almost 
asleep when you 're on duty," said another of the men 
who had not yet spoken. 

" I can 't help my nature, Jim," replied the lover of 
Morpheus, "but the last part of your assertion is as 
far from the truth as you generally are." 

" Keep yourself moving, Dick," said Luke, " there 's 
nothing like action for getting clear of drowsiness. 
I Ve seen men use themselves to going without sleep 
for three or four days at a time, and not feel any the 
worse for it; but you're always moping round the 
fire. I do n't wonder you 're sleepy." 

" There 's not much danger of my goin' to sleep to- 
night, anyhow," said Dick, " so, if either of you have 
got a yarn to tell, or a song to sing, you can go on 
with it. Luke, you 're as good as any body I know, 
for doin' either." 

"Yes," said Zephaniah, "he's got a voice like a 
night 'gale, and can talk as fast and as good as a min- 
ister on a Sunday mornin'. So, drive on Luke." 

" Hold on," said Luke. " you must do a little your- 
selves. You must n't expect me to do all the labor. 
Jim, there, can sing. Let him sing a song first, and 
then I '11 go on with my story." 

" What shall I sing ?" asked Jim. 

" Oh, anything, so it 's a song. ' Rule Columbia,' 



184 THE CAMP-FIRE 

•^ Liberty Tree/ or ' The American Star.' Or, if you 
do n't know any of them, anything else will do," said 
Luke. 

" Well," said Jim, " I '11 try ' Liberty Tree' ; that 's 
a favorite song of mine." 

"And of mine, tu," said Zephaniah." Clear your 
pipe, and try to du it as it ought to be done." 

Jim was a little hoarse from cold, but had a good, 
strong, musical voice. The song he sang was a great 
favourite in those days, and is still occasionally sung. 
It was written by Thomas Paine, the author of the 
' Eights of Man," in 1775. It is as follows : — 

In a chariot of light from the regions of day, 

The goddess of Liberty came; 
Ten thousand celestials directed the way, 

And hither conducted the dame. 
A fair budding branch from the gardens above, 

Where millions with millions agree, 
She brought in her hand, as a pledge of her love, 

And the plant she named Liberty Tree. 

The celestial exotic struck deep in the ground, 

Like a native it flourish'd and bore; 
The fame of its fruit drew the nations around, 

To seek out this peaceable shore. 
Unmindful of names or distinctions they came. 

For freemen like brothers agree; 
With one spirit endued, they one friendship pursued, 

And their temple was Liberty Tree. 



AT WHITE PLAINS. 185 

Beneath this fair tree, like the patriarchs of old, 

Their bread in contentment they ate, 
Unvexed with the troubles of silver and gold, 

The cares of the grand and the great. 
With timber and tar they old England supplied. 

And supported her power on the sea; 
Her battles they fought, without getting a groat. 

For the honour of Liberty Tree. 

But hear, oh, ye swains, ('tis a tale most profane,) 

How all the tjTaunical powers. 
King, commons, and lords, are uniting amain. 

To cut down this guardian of ours ! 
From the east to the west blow the trumpet to arms ! 

Through the land let the sound of it flee; 
Let the far and the near all unite, with a cheer. 

In defence of our Liberty Tree. 

"That's a song I allers liked," said Zephaniah, 
when Jim had concluded. 

" The words of the song are excellent," said Luke. 
"They breathe the pure spirit of patriotism. We 
endure a good deal in defence of " our Liberty Tree." 

"Yes," said Zephaniah, "I wish it was big and 
strong enough to take care of itself" 

" Ah !" said Luke, " its roots will have to strike deep 
in the soil, and it will have to grow to be a large 
trunk, to make it strong enough to take care of itself 
It's a sort of tree that needs a good deal of attention. 
The worms attack it, and try to destroy it, and the 
winds do their best to level it with the ground." 
18* 



186 THE CAMP-FIRE 

" I hope we '11 be able to take care of it," said Jim. 

"Amen," added Luke. 

" But you promised to tell us some sort of a story, 
Luke, when Jim sang the song. Let 's have it, and 
make it as long as you can, or we '11 run out of talk," 
said Dick. 

" Never fear, Dick," said Zephaniah, " Luke 's a 
rnine that never fails to yield somethin', whether it 's 
real gold or not. But go on, Luke." 

" Well, men, I do n't care about inventing any 
stories to amuse you, just now. I '11 tell you some- 
thing real. I was with the army of General Gates 
that captured Burgoyne, and, if you 're willing, that 
shall be the subject of my narrative. You 've heard, 
I suppose, all the principal movements that brought 
about the surrender, and that there was two battles 
fought, and so on ; but I think I can amuse you by 
telling you about some incidents that came under my 
knowledge while I was there, either by seeing or hear- 
ing of them," said Luke. 

" That 's a part of this war that I know least about," 
said Zephaniah. " If you can give us an inkling of how 
things went on there, you '11 do us a favor." 

" You must n't expect me to give you all the details 
of everything that occurred at Saratoga. All I shall 
■do will be to give you an idea to whom we are most 
indebted for the victory, and how the men acted, and 
so on," said Luke. *> 



.Mk 



AT WHITE PLAINS. 187 

" Enough said," struck in Dick ; " go on." 
"Well, I was with Livingston's brigade," began 
Luke. " James Livingston's it was, not Henry's. On 
the 19 th of September, the day of the first battle, our 
regiment, with Learned's brigade, and three Massachu- 
setts regiments, formed the centre of the army, and 
our position was on a high plain. Our commander, 
General Gates, had determined to maintain a defensive 
position, and we accordingly waited for the approach 
of the enemy. The morning was clear and calm, and 
everything was white with hoar-frost. We were so 
near the British that we could hear their reveille ; and 
we could see, through the openings in the wood, the 
glitter of bayonets and sabres, and scarlet uniforms 
moving about. About ten o'clock we knew that the 
whole British force was in motion, yet we were still 
in our position on the plain. About noon, at the 
suggestion of General Arnold, Morgan's light horse, 
and Dearborn's light infantry, were sent out, and they 
made a vigorous attack on the Canadians and Indians 
who swarmed upon the hills. The furious charge of 
Morgan broke the enemy ; but his men became scat- 
tered in the wood, and a reinforcement of the British 
coming up, drove them back in their turn. I could 
see only a part of this, from where I was standing ; 
but I was told the rest, and I '11 tell it to you as if I 
saw it myself. Well, as I said, the detachment of 
Morgan was broken, and a captain, a lieutenant, and 



188 THE CAMP-FIRE 

some privates, fell into the hands of the British. 
For a moment, Morgan found himself alone, and 
he thought his band of sharp-shooters was ruined; 
but he blew his loud signal-whistle, and his brave 
boys soon gathered round him. He charged again, 
and was joined by Dearborn, Cilley, and Scammel." 

" That 's a great band — them sharp-shooters of 
Morgan's," said Zephaniah. " I 've got a notion of 
j'inin' 'em, if I can get a chance. It's a style o' 
fightin' I like. Besides, Morgan's one of the never- 
fails." 

" Yes," said Luke, " you may well say that ; Mor- 
gan is a never-fail. You may always depend upon 
him and his band showing the toughest kind of fight- 
ing. He dashes on the foe with such resistless force, 
too, after the rifles of his men have done their work. 
But to return to my story. Both parties fought with 
great bravery ; and, in the end, each retired within 
their lines. General Frazer, who commanded a por- 
tion of the right wing of the enemy, then made an 
attempt to turn our left flank ; and Arnold resolved 
to make a similar attempt on Frazer. He put him- 
self at the head of our division, and attempted to cut 
off General Frazer from the main army. We' ad- 
vanced through a dense forest, and over the roughest 
kind of ground. It appeared that neither party 
could make out what the manoeuvres of the other 
were for, till we came upon each other suddenly, on 



AT WHITE PLAINS. 189 

the level ground near Mill Creek, I think they call it. 
It was a short distance from a cottage. Arnold was 
at the head of our men, and he fell upon the foe with 
the fury of a lion, I was near him, with the troops 
in advance, and I do n't think I ever saw a man dis- 
play such fire and such bravery in action. He shouted 
at the highest pitch of his voice, to cheer us on ; and 
we dashed upon the foe with the force of a hurricane ; 
but the numbers of the enemy were overwhelming, 
and they kept their ground. We had to give way for 
awhile ; but Arnold rallied the troops, and we re- 
ceived a reinforcement of four regiments. Then we 
went to the work again. We pushed them so hard, 
that they began to give way and to fall into confusion ; 
when General Philips appeared upon the ground, with 
some artillery, to reinforce the British troops. The 
victory seemed to be ours, just before his arrival, but 
then we had to fall back to our line. It was then 
about three o'clock. The desperate contest ceased for 
awhile, for both parties wanted breath. I was almost 
worn out. I had been in the van, where the hardest 
fighting had been done, and I was bespattered with 
blood ; — not my own, but from my comrades and the 
troops of the enemy. I sat down on the ground, to 
rest a little, before I should be called to the contest 
again. We were just beyond musket-shot from the 
enemy ; and between us was a thick wood, and a 
narrow clearing. We kept the deepest silence, and 



190 THE CAMP-FIRE 

could hear the officers of the enemy give their orders 
along the lines. They broke the short peace, by 
opening a hot fire from a large battery ; but it did 
very little damage to us. We did n't answer them, 
but still kept silence. Then we saw their infantry 
coming across the open plain, with their steady tread, 
and we knew" they were going to try the bayonet. 
We kept close behind our entrenchments, till they 
fired a volley, anci came on to the charge, when we 
sprang upon them like tigers that had been crouching 
to wait for their prey. We drove them back across 
the clearing; and then followed as bloody and as 
hard-fought a battle as ever these States saw. The 
enemy were reinforced, and we were obliged to give 
way ; and then we advanced with such force, that 
they were compelled to fall back ; and so it continued 
for three hours. The way men were maimed by the 
shot, and mangled by the bayonet, was most horrible. 
I received a bayonet-wound in the leg ; but it did n't 
prevent me from keeping the field. I knew every 
man was wanted there. The killed and wounded of 
both armies were lying together. I hel23ed to take 
the cannon of the enemy, two or three times ; but in 
the end we had to leave them, having no horses to 
drag them away. The battle continued in this man- 
ner till dark. Our regiment, with most of the army, 
retired to our lines ; but some of our troops remained 
on the ground, and skirmished till eleven o'clock at 



AT WHITE PLAINS. 191 

night. I never was so worn down in my life before. 
I could not sleep, I was so tired." 

" I should think so," said Dick. Four hours' hard 
fighting is enough to wear the stoutest men out." 

" Was Arnold in the whole of the battle ?" asked 
Zephaniah. 

" Yes, through the whole four hours' contest ; ex- 
posing himself to all the dangers of the common 
soldier," replied Luke. 

"1 heard that General Burgoyne was with the 
army engaged durin' the battle," said Jim. 

" Yes, I saw him two or three times, myself. He 
came near being shot, once. The ball that was in- 
tended for him, struck a captain in the arm. Indeed, 
it was generally reported that he had been killed," 
was the reply. 

" What was the number engaged on both sides ? — 
did you hear ?" asked Dick. 

" Yes," replied Luke. " But, before I tell you, put 
a little more wood on the fire. I 'm shivering all the 
time." The request was complied with, and Luke 
went on to answer the question. "The force that the 
British had engaged in the action, numbered about 
three thousand men. Ours, about two thousand five 
hundred." 

" Very nearly matched," said Zephaniah. 

" Yes ; but the advantage was on their side. They 
claimed the victory, too; but I can't see how that 



192 THE CAMP-FIRE 

could be. We acted on the defensive. They were 
the assailants. Now, if we kept our ground, they 
must have failed in the object of their attack ; and 
we were victorious. The mere possession of the 
ground where the action was fought, was nothing. 
We retired within our- lines, in order to rest more 
securely. But to go on with my story. I didn't 
sleep much that night, my leg pained so severely, 
though I had had the wound dressed. If Burgoyne 
had attacked us the next morning, he would have 
made a sure thing of it ; for it was discovered that 
we had only one round of cartridge left. But for an 
arrival of some provisions, on the 20th, we should 
have been put on short allowance, too. The British 
did n't seem disposed to renew the fight, though they 
had slept on the field of battle j and they retired to 
their camp on the river flats. Arnold wanted to 
commence the battle early in the morning ; but we 
had to wait for powder and bullets to come from 
Albany, and that put a barrier to anything of the 
kind. Well, both parties set about strengthening 
their works. We lay within cannon-shot of the 
British, from the 20th of September to the 7th of 
October. We had skirmishes with small parties of 
them every day ; for the pickets were so near each 
other, they could n't help taking an occasional skir- 
mish. Besides, when we would send out foraging 
parties, they would often come across a party of the 



AT WHITE PLAINS. 193 

enemy, out on the same business; and, of course, 
there would be a fight. I was with one of these 
foraging parties, when they met a party of British at 
the same place where they intended to get some pro- 
visions. I think there was about fifty of us in the 
company, and we were under the command of Ser- 
geant Horton. We proceeded to a farm about two 
miles from the camp, and were marching up to the 
house, before we caught sight of the red coats of the 
enemy. It appeared that they discovered us about 
the same time, and began to form, to wait for our 
approach. They drew up in front of the house. I 
guess they were about as many as our party num- 
bered. We halted as soon as we saw them forming, 
and drew up in a line for attack ; for we were all 
anxious to give them a specimen of what our boys 
could do. Well, as soon as we could get everything 
prepared, we didn't stop to enquire whether there 
was any more of the red-coats about than what we 
saw drawn up, but rushed on to the attack ; shouting 
and whooping as loud as possible. They waited till 
we got within musket-shot, and then poured into us 
their fire, which we returned with a pretty good 
effect — several of the enemy falling, to my know- 
ledge. Two or three of our party were wounded, but 
none killed. We pressed on to the attack, with our 
bayonets, and they waited steadily to receive us ; and 
then came a fierce contest, with that deadly weapon. 
17 N 



194 THE CAMP-FIRE 

Clashing against each other, the bayonets went ; and 
gashes were given and received. They stood the 
onset steadily, for awhile ; but seeing that we were 
resolved to make too desperate a fight, they broke, 
and we pursued them for some distance from the 
house. We wounded two, and took them prisoners, 
and then returned to the house. As we were making 
arrangements with the owner of the farm, for some 
provisions, some of our men observed th^ approach 
of a larger party of the enemy ; and we secured all 
the provisions we could lay hands on, and hurried 
away from the house. I don't think we had got 
away more than a hundred yards, when the party 
of British came round the house, in pursuit of us. 
You see, they had come towards the farm-house 
from the side opposite to the one from which our 
party came. We immediately turned and gave them 
a volley, and then got away just as fast as our legs 
would carry us. We held on to the provisions till we 
got into the wood where we had left our horses, and 
then our flight became easier. The British party 
were afraid to pursue us any farther, then ; because 
there were so many diflferent parties and detachments 
from both armies out, that the greatest care was 
necessary to keep from being surprised, or from falling 
in with larger parties than they could stand against." 
" Well," said Zephaniah, " I suppose you got safe 
into camp with your provisions ?" 



AT WHITE PLAINS. 195 

"Oh, yes," replied Luke, "we arrived safely in 
camp, without further molestation. But I forgot to 
tell you that we had received a reinforcement of two 
thousand New England troops, under General Lin- 
coln, just before that affair of the foraging party. 
General Gates gave up the command of the right 
wing to him, and took command of the left ; — that 
is, the one that had fought the battle, and which our 
regiment belonged to. Some say that Gates was 
jealous of the laurels Arnold had won, and wanted 
to have a share of the glory himself I do n't know 
how that was ; but I know that Arnold was deprived 
of his command, and stayed with the army merely 
that his reputation might not suffer by his leaving 
when another battle was hourly expected." 

" I suppose Gates treated Arnold as meanly as he 
did General Schuyler, when Schuyler was deprived 
of his command of the northern army," said Zepha- 
niah. "I've heard he acted a close and narrow- 
hearted part towards Schuyler." 

"It may be true," replied Luke. "General Gates 
never stood very high in my estimation. But to re- 
turn to my narrative. Our army increased in num- 
bers very fast, after the battle of Stillwater, as the 
fight of the 19th of September is called. Troops 
came in from all parts of the surrounding country ; 
and we were thus enabled to send out small detach- 
ments to harass the enemy, without weakening our 



196 THE CAMP-FIRE 

lines, or endangering the safety of the camp. About 
three days after the battle, we were joined by about 
a hundred and fifty Indians, belonging to the Mo- 
hawks, Oneidas, Tuscaroras, and some other tribes. 
They were a fine, lusty set of men, and they looked 
as if they would be a valuable aid to us. The In- 
dians of Burgoyne's array began to desert him about 
the same time. You see, they expectedJ;o get plenty 
of scalps and plunder ; but being mistaken, and the 
hunting season coming on, they wanted to go and 
provide for their wives and children. This, and the 
want of provisions, put Burgoyne into a perilous con- 
dition. Our pickets and skirmishing detachments 
were so numerous, that he could n't even get a letter 
to Clinton for some days. Not an ounce of provisions, 
nor a man, was allowed to get to him from any quar- 
ter; and about the first of October, T heard, he put 
his troops on short allowance. He was compelled to 
fight or fly. To fly was impossible, for we had every 
passage guarded ; and so he resolved to fight." 

" He was compelled to fight or surrender, then," 
said Zephaniah ; " and he chose to fight ?" 

" Yes, exactly," replied Luke. '•' British pride 
couldn't think of surrendering a finely-equipped 
army, like Burgoyne's, to an army principally com- 
posed of raw troops, like ours, without having a hard 
fight. Well, the morning of the 7th of October came. 
General Gates had ordered a detachment of three 



AT WHITE PLAINS. 197 

hundred men, under the command of Colonel Brooks, 
to gain the rear of the enemy, and fall upon his out- 
posts; and Colonel Brooks was at head-quarters, 
receiving his instructions, when a sergeant brought 
intelligence of the advance of a large body of the 
enemy, under Burgoyne, towards our left. The order 
to Brooks was revoked, and the general sent out an 
aid, to ascertain the exact position and probable in- 
tentions of the enemy. Before I heard what intelli- 
gence was brought, news came that the Indians and 
Canadians had attacked our pickets, near Mill Creek. 
I soon caught sight of the pickets retreating; and 
they were pursued by the Canadians and Indians, 
and a detachment of grenadiers, to within musket- 
shot of our lines. Then there was a hot fight for 
about half an hour, at the breastwork, till Morgan, 
with his riflemen and a corps of infantry, charged on 
the enemy with such effect, that they were thrown 
into confusion, and driven to the British line, which 
was forming on a newly-cleared field." 

" Jim, put more wood on the fire ; will you ? you've 
got it handy. I suppose we '11 have to sit here and 
talk all night, if it 's goin' to be this cold," said Dick, 
crowding as close to the fire as possible. 

" I 'm pretty certain I shall be up all night," said 
Jim ; " and I want to hear the rest that Luke has to 
tell about Saratoga." 

Blankets were brought into use, in which the men 
17* 



198 THE CAMP-FIRE 

wrapped themselves, and prepared to make them- 
selves as comfortable as circumstances would admit, 
and pass the night in talking, or listening to Luke's 
narrative of the events which led to the capture of 
Burgoyne. 

" Now, Luke," said Zephaniah, after they had all 
got fixed a little more comfortable, " we 're ready to 
hear the rest of the story, as soon as you 're ready to 
give it." 

"Always ready," said Luke. "It was about two 
o'clock, I think ; about the same time the bloodiest 
fight of the 19 th commenced. Morgan had been sent, 
with his riflemen and other troops, amounting to fif- 
teen hundred men, to fall upon the flanking party of 
General Frazer at the same time when the attack 
should be made on the British left. Our brigade, 
under General Poor, was to make the attack on the 
British left, aided by a portion of Learned's brigade. 
Well, at the order being given, we marched steadily 
up the slope of the hill on which the British artillery 
and grenadiers were posted. We had received orders 
not to fire until after the first discharge from the 
enemy ; and we were true to them. We were march- 
ing up to the cannon's mouths, amid an awful silence, 
when suddenly they let their grape-shot and musket- 
balls fly ; and they made great havoc in the branches 
of the trees above our heads, but did n't hurt us any 
of account. This was our signal. We sprang for- 



AT WHITE PLAINS. 199 

ward with a loud shout, and poured our fire, in rapid 
volleys, into the British on the hill, and opened right 
and left, to get the cover of the trees, so that the 
artillery could n't rake us. The fight soon became 
bloody. "We rushed up to the mouths of the cannon, 
and struggled with the enemy among the carriages of 
the field-pieces. They fought as desperately as we 
did. They knew how much depended on that day's 
work. For a long time, the scale seemed almost 
equal. We took their cannon several times ; and as 
often did they retake them. One piece I saw taken 
five times; but at last it remained with us, as th£ 
British fell back. Colonel Cilley, who had been 
fighting at the head of his troops, leaped on the cap- 
tured piece and waved his sword; Medicating,' he 
said, ^ the piece to the American cause.' He turned 
the cannon's muzzle to the enemy, and we opened a 
fire on them with their own ammunition. This 
seemed to give our men stronger sinews and fiercer 
courage. We went into them with more force than 
ever, but the fight was obstinate on their part. They 
were brave and skilful. At last. Major Ackland, the 
foremost man in the fight, on their part, was severely 
wounded, and Major Williams was taken prisoner; 
and then the grenadiers and artillery-men fled in con- 
fusion, and left the field in possession of the Ame- 
rican troops. About the time of our attack on the 
British left, Morgan, with his corps, rushed down the 



200 THE CAMP-FIRE 

hills that skirted the flanking party of Frazer, in 
advance of the enemy's right, and opened on them 
such a storm of well-aimed bullets, that they were 
driven hastily back to their lines. Then, with the 
speed of the wind, Morgan wheeled, and fell upon the 
British right flank with such force, that their ranks 
were at once thrown into confusion. It seemed as if 
the attack in that manner came upon the British 
unexpectedly. While they were in confusion from 
Morgan's attack, Major Dearborn fell upon them in 
front, with some fresh troops. They broke and fled 
iga the greatest terror, but were ralhed by the Earl 
of Balcarras, and again brought up to the work. 
These shocks upon the right and left shook the 
British camp, but it still stood firm. While we were 
waiting on the hill where we had beaten the grena- 
diers and artillery-men that formed the right of the 
enemy, I saw a horseman coming towards us, from 
our lines, at full speed. He rode a large brown horse, 
and seemed flying as if pursued. As he neared us, 
we discovered that it was the gallant Arnold ; and a 
loud hurrah went up from our brigade. He put him- 
self at the head of three regiments of Learned's 
brigade, ours among the number, and led us against 
the British centre. How soldiers will fight under a 
leader in whom they have confidence ! Arnold rushed 
into the thickest of the fight, with the fury of a mad- 
man, or rode along the lines, brandishing his broad- 



AT WHITE PLAINS. 201 

sword above his head and giving his orders. I saw 
an officer on horseback, who seemed to be trying to 
get to speak to Arnold ; but after following him about 
for half an hour, he gave up the chase. I afterwards 
learned that the officer was Major Armstrong, and 
that he had been sent to order Arnold back from the 
field. The Hessians, who formed the greater part of 
the centre of the enemy, received our first assault 
with firmness, and stood their ground bravely ; but 
on the second charge, when Arnold at our head 
dashed furiously in among them, they broke, and fled 
in the greatest dismay. Then the battle became 
general along the whole line. It was awful. Amidst 
the rain of bullets, the flames and smoke, Arnold 
could be seen, with his trumpet voice animating the 
men, as he dashed about from one part of the field to 
another; and Morgan, too, was hardly less active. 
On the part of the British, General Frazer was the 
ruling spirit. \Yhen the ranks gave way, he put them 
in order again ; when their lines began to waver, he 
infused some of his own courage into them. He was 
mounted on a splendid gray gelding, and dressed in 
the full uniform of a field-officer; he was a fine aim 
for our marksmen. It was evident that the fate of 
the day rested on him, and Arnold suggested to 
Morgan the importance of his death. Morgan called 
a file of his best men around him, and pointing to 
General Frazer, told them that victory depended on 



202 THE CAMP-FIRE 

him, and that though he admired him for his bravery, 
he must die ; and told them to take their station in a 
clump of bushes near by, and do their duty. About 
five minutes afterwards, Frazer fell, mortally wounded, 
and was borne off the field." 

" That seems like a cold-blooded murder," said Jim. 
" But I think Morgan done right. If it had been a 
poor private like ourselves, there would n't have been 
anybody to say anything about whether it was right 
or not ; but because it was a general, we hear people 
censure Morgan." 

" No doubt," remarked Luke, " the death of Gen- 
eral Frazer saved a great deal of slaughter ; for if he 
had lived through the action, the victory would have 
been doubtful, at least. His bravery would have 
animated the British to make a more desperate re- 
sistance, and then the slaughter on both sides would 
have been more horrible than it was. He was a 
splendid officer, though he was fighting on the wrong 
side of the question." 

" I suppose his death put a sort of panic into the 
enemy," said Zephaniah. 

"Yes; as soon as Frazer fell, they began to get 
dismayed," replied Luke ; " and just then three thou- 
sand New York troops, under General Tenbroeck, 
made their appearance. That completed their dis- 
may ; and the whole line broke and fled within the 
entrenchments of their camp. We pursued them up 



AT WHITE PLAINS. 203 

to their very entrenchments, in the face of a furious 
storm of grape-shot and musket-balls, and assaulted 
their works vigorously, without the aid of artillery. 
Arnold took a part of the brigades of Patterson and 
Glover, and assaulted the works occu^Died by the 
British light infantry, under the Earl of Balcarras, 
and drove the enemy from a strong abattis, at the 
point of the bayonet. There he tried to force his 
way into the enemy's camp ; but he was obliged to 
abandon the attempt. Our brigade was advancing to 
make an assault on the works at an opening in the 
abattis, between the light infantry and the German 
right flank defence, under Colonel Breyman, when 
we saw Arnold dashing through the cross-fire of the 
two armies, and coming towards us. He placed him- 
self at our head, and we moved on rapidly to the 
attack. He directed Brook's regiment to assault a 
redoubt which was on one side of the opening, while 
the remainder of the brigade fell upon the front. 
The battle there was fierce and bloody; but the 
enemy at last gave way, and left the Germans com- 
pletely exposed. At that moment, Arnold galloped 
to the left, where we were, and ordered our regiment 
and Weston's, and Morgan's riflemen, to advance and 
make a general assault. He put himself at the head 
of Brook's regiment, and attacked the German works. 
Having found the sally-port, he rushed within the 
enemy's entrenchments ; and the Germans, who had 



204 THE CAMP-FIRE 

seen him on his steed, in the thickest of the fight, 
for more than two hours, fled terrified ; hut, as they 
fled, they fired a volley, which killed Arnold's horse, 
and wounded the general himself, in the same leg in 
which he was w^ounded at Quebec. There, as I was 
told. Major Armstrong overtook him, and delivered 
Gates's order, to return to camp, fearing he ^ might do 
some rash thing !' " 

" It was a rash thing, no doubt, in the eye of 
Gates," said Zephaniah ; " but it 's the right sort o' 
thing to lead troops to victory " 

" Where was General Gates, all the time the battle 
was going on ?" asked Dick. 

" Why, in the camp, while Burgoyne was in the 
field all day," was the reply. " He issued his orders 
from his quarters, when he should have been on the 
field to inspirit his troops. It was about twilight 
when Arnold was wounded, and conveyed from the 
field by Major Armstrong and a sergeant. The Ger- 
mans, finding the assault general, threw down their 
arms, and retreated to the interior of the camp, 
leaving their commander. Colonel Breyman, mortally 
wounded. The British camjD was thus left exposed 
at a strong point. Burgoyne attempted to rally the 
dismayed Germans; but they couldn't be brought 
into action again. Both sides were worn out with 
the exertions of the day; and as the darkness in- 
creased, the contest ended, and everything was hushed 



AT WHITE PLAINS. 205 

but the groans of the wounded, the occasional word 
of command, and the heavy tread of retiring columns, 
seeking for a place of repose. We kept the field till 
about midnight, when we were relieved by the divi- 
sion of General Lincoln, which had remained in camp 
during the action. We returned to camp to enjoy a 
little rest after such a day's work ; and, I tell you, 
I felt a sort of thankfulness, that I was permitted to 
return to quarters once more. I slept soundly till 
the next morning. When I awoke, at the reveille, I 
heard that Burgoyne had evacuated his camp, and 
removed the whole of his army, artillery, and bag- 
gage, about a mile from his former position. We 
did n't go out of the camp that day ; but news would 
come in, every now and then, of a skirmish between 
some of Lincoln's troops and the enemy ; we also 
learned that the general had taken possession of the 
British camp, and was wounded in the leg. As the 
news that the British had retreated soon spread over 
the surrounding country, the people came flocking 
into camp, to join in the general joy, and to ascertain 
whether any of their relatives and friends were 
among the billed and wounded." 

" What was your loss in the whole day's battle ?" 
enquired Zephaniah. 

"About a hundred and fifty, killed and wounded. 
Arnold was the only commissioned ofiicer who re- 
ceived a wound." 
18 



206 THE CAMP-FIRE 

"What was the loss of the British?" Zephaniah 
next enquired, wishing to know all the particulars, 
and fearful, also, that the narrative was near its close. 

" The enemy lost about seven hundred, in killed, 
wounded, and prisoners. Among their officers who 
were killed, was the gallant Frazer, Sir Francis 
Clarke, Burgoyne's aid-de-camp, who died at the 
head-quarters of Gates, Colonel Breyman, of the 
German corps, and Lieutenant Reynell. We took 
Major Ackland and Major Williams, prisoners. Bur- 
goyne had several very narrow escapes. One ball 
passed through his hat, and another through his 
coat." 

" Well, I suppose you are goin' to tell us all about 
the surrender ; ain't you ?" enquired Jim, anxiously, 
as Luke paused. 

" Oh, yes ; I '11 tell you about that, in its proper 
time. I '11 go on from where I left off. We kept up 
a constant cannonading on the 8th of October, the 
day after the battle, principally directed against a 
place called '• the great redoubt,' on a hill near the 
British camp. I .afterwards learned that General 
Frazer had died that morning, and that lie requested 
to be buried on the hill, in the great redoubt, at six 
o'clock in the evening. At the appointed time, the 
request was complied with, while our cannon-balls 
were flying around the grave, and ploughing up the 
hill. This redoubt was within sight of both armies. 



.2k 



AT WHITE PLAINS. 207 

and all eyes were directed towards it. We had mis- 
taken the character of the procession, and kept up 
our cannonading ; but as soon as we were informed 
that it was a funeral, paying the last tribute of re- 
spect to General Frazer, orders were given to cease 
firing with balls, and to render military honors to the 
fallen brave. While the chaplain was repeating the 
service, a single cannon was fired at regular intervals, 
by our troops; and it seemed to boom mournfully 
among the hills." 

" That was a pleasing incident," said Zephaniah. 
" Two hostile armies doing homage to the same brave 
man, is a rare sight." 

" It shows that the brave know how to honor the 
brave, no matter if among the foe," replied Luke. 
"Both of the hostile armies could testify to the 
bravery and skill of General Frazer. We had thought 
him their best officer in battle, and his life paid for 
that reputation. The British knew that without 
him they would have fared far worse than they did. 
Well, to continue my story. On the night of the 8th, 
it rained; — the next morning, we received intelli- 
gence that the whole British army had retreated from 
their position at Wilbur's Basin, and that Burgoyne 
had left all his sick and wounded behind him, in the 
hospital, and had also abandoned a great number of 
wheel-carriages and other things. They had left 
Wilbur's Basin about nine o'clock, on the night of the 



208 THE CAMP-FIRE 

8th of October, and marched through all the rain, 
and over the bad roads, though they had been under 
arms all day, and the night before. I learned after- 
wards, that they were so worn out, that they had to 
make a halt, about six o'clock in the morning, and 
rest for three hours. It rained all day on the 9th, 
and of course we could n't think of pursuit that day ; 
but about noon of the next, we started. General 
Gates had calculated that Burgoyne would retreat on 
the 9th, and had sent General Fellows, with about 
fourteen hundred men, to occupy the high ground 
that was opposite the Saratoga ford ; another detach- 
ment to occupy the ground near Fort Miller; and 
another, of two thousand men, to occupy the heights 
beyond Saratoga, in the direction of Lake George." 

" I 've never been in the neighborhood where the 
battles were fought," said Zephaniah ; " but I suppose 
that these detachments were intended to cut off Bur- 
goyne's retreat." 

" That was their object," replied Luke. " We 
reached the high ground, between Saratoga Church 
and Fish Creek, about four o'clock in the afternoon. 
The British had crossed over the creek, and encamped 
on the high ground on the other side. The two 
armies were within the sound of each other's music. 
The boats of Burgoyne, with his baggage and provi- 
sions, were at the mouth of the creek. A fatigue 
party began to carry the stores from the boats to the 



AT WHITE PLAINS. 209 

heights ; but General Fellows played on them with 
two field-pieces, and they were obliged to retreat to 
their camp. Several of the boats were taken, with 
their contents, and were plundered by the raw militia 
we had with the army. Even the continental troops 
would take their pay and rations directly from the 
enemy, instead of receiving it regularly; so that 
General Gates had to issue an order, in which he said 
he would have the first person who was detected in 
plundering the baggage and stores taken from the 
enemy, punished with the utmost severity of military 
law. Finding we had guarded the ford across the 
Hudson, Burgoyne thought he would retreat up the 
right bank of that river, till he got opposite to Fort 
Edward, and then force his way across, and take 
possession of that fort. But it seemed as if we had 
small detachments all over the surrounding country. 
Every height was guarded, and every passage blocked 
up. The workmen that Burgoyne had sent forward 
to open the roads and repair the bridges, were driven 
back into the camp. The British found the fort in 
possession of about two hundred Americans, under 
Colonel Cochrane. The militia flocked into the fort, 
to strengthen the garrison ; and the British, thinking 
our troops were as numerous in their front as in their 
rear, retreated back to their lines. About this time, 
a stratagem of the British commander came near 
being successful. He caused a rumor to reach us, 
18* 



210 THE CAMP-FIRE 

that the whole British army had marched towards 
Fort Edward, leaving only a small detachment, as a 
rear-guard, in defence of the camp. General Gates 
determined to cross Fish Creek, on the morning of the 
11th, and fall upon the rear-guard with his whole 
force, and then make a vigorous pursuit after the 
main body. This, you see, was what Burgoyne 
wanted. He put a strong guard at the battery on the 
creek, and concealed his troops in the thicket in the 
rear — a sort of ambush. Well, the morning of the 
11th was cloudless, as far as the sky was concerned; 
but a thick fog rested on the whole country, and ob- 
scured every object. This was thought to be a favor- 
able circumstance, by both generals. You must bear 
in mind, that what I 'm telling you now, I learned 
after the surrender ; it was impossible for me to know 
these things then." 

" Yes," said Zephaniah, " I was wonderin' how you 
got to know these things, seein' you weren't an 
officer." 

"All told to me afterwards," continued Luke; "but 
you must recollect I 'm telling you as if I saw it my- 
self at the time. Well, as I said, this was considered 
a favorable omen by both generals. Gates thought it 
would veil his movements from the British rear- 
guard ; and Burgoyne believed it would conceal his 
ambush, and that victory was certain. The brigades 
of Nixon and Glover, and Morgan's corps, were or- 



AT WHITE PLAINS. 211 

dered to cross the creek, and fall upon the enemy's 
camp. Morgan advanced about daylight, when the 
fog was so thick that he could see but a few rods 
around him. He fell in with the British pickets, 
who poured in a volley on him, and killed a lieu- 
tenant and several privates. Morgan thought at once 
that the rumor was false, and that the enemy was in 
force in the rear; and Wilkinson, the deputy adju- 
tant-general, who had been sent by Gates to recon- 
noitre, was of the same opinion. Accordingly, our 
brigade, (that was, Learned's,) and Patterson's, were 
despatched to the support of Morgan. Nixon and 
Glover pressed forward to attack the camp. Nixon 
crossed the creek, and surprised a picket at Fort 
Hardy, and Glover was about to follow him, when a 
British soldier was seen fording the stream. He was 
captured, and professed to be a deserter. Glover 
questioned him, and was informed that the entire 
British army were in their camp, drawn up in the 
order of battle. Glover did n't believe him at first ; 
but the capture of a German deserter and a recon- 
noitring party, by the advance-guard, under Captain 
Goodale, put it beyond doubt. Gates, having received 
information of these things from Glover, revoked all 
the orders he had given on the previous evening, and 
directed the troops to return to their former positions. 
General Gates's head-quarters were about a mile in 
the rear of the army, and his orders came almost too 



212 THE CAMP-FIRE 

late to save the troops from destruction. Those who 
had crossed the creek, were soon exposed to the 
enemy, by the fog clearing away. The British were 
under arms, on the heights. Nixon had retreated, 
however, and the cannonade opened on him by the 
British, took effect only on the rear of his detach- 
ment. In the meantime, our party had joined Mor- 
gan, and we were about to press on to the attack, 
when Wilkinson arrived, with the intelligence that 
the right wing of our army had given way. The 
commander of the detachment was General Learned, 
who also commanded our brigade. He was a veteran 
soldier ; and not having received any counter orders 
from Gates, he wanted to carr^^ out the orders of the 
previous day ; but on counselling with some of his 
officers, a retreat was deemed advisable. As we 
turned to retreat, the British opened their fire on us ; 
but we were soon masked by the woods, and Morgan 
took post on the flank and rear of the enemy. Thus 
we were enabled to return to our old positions, and 
thus were we saved from a fatal defeat ; for if Bur- 
goyne had cut off the brigades of Nixon, Glover, 
Learned, and Patterson, our army would have been 
so weakened, that Burgoyne might have easily scat- 
tered the remainder of our forces, and made good his 
retreat to Albany. But the deserters blasted all his 
prospects." 

"Open the canvass, there, Dick, and see if you 



AT WHITE PLAINS. 213 

can perceive anything of the day coming over the 
hills," said Jim. 

" No, there 's no signs of it, yet/' replied Dick, 
after doing as requested. 

" Then Luke will have time to tell us about the 
surrender," said Zephaniah. "That's the most in- 
teresting part, to me." 

" Oh, yes," returned Luke, " I think there 's time 
enough to tell about that, yet. I '11 make it as short 
as possible." 

" Go on, then," said Zephaniah. 

" Well, Burgoyne saw that all retreat was cut off. 
The scouts reported that the roads swarmed with 
republicans. The few Indians he had with him, left 
him, disheartened by his ill success. The loyalists 
who had joined his army, began to think about their 
personal security, and drop off gradually. Burgoyne 
had expected to hear from Clinton ; but not a word 
did he receive from him. His camp was completely 
surrounded, and every part of it exposed to the fire 
of cannon and musketry. He had n't bread enough 
in camp for three days' use; and, of course, none 
could be obtained. None dared to go to the river for 
water, except the women of their camp — nc one 
would shoot at them ; but every man that went was 
a target for our marksmen. Their army was only 
about half as large as it was when they first came 
into the neighborhood of Stillwater, and the greater 



214 THE CAMP-FIRE 

part of them were not Englishmen. Well, as I heard, 
on the morning of the loth of October, Burgoyne 
called a council of his officers, including even captains 
of companies. They sat in a large tent, which was 
several times a mark for our musket-balls. An 
eighteen-pound cannon-ball swept across the table at 
which Burgoyne and the other officers were sitting, 
and several grape-shot fell near the tent." 

" I guess they moved out of that pretty soon after 
that ; did n't they ?" enquired Zephaniah. 

" Yes," replied Luke, " their deliberation was short, 
and they resolved to open a treaty with General 
Gates, for an honorable surrender. Towards night, a 
flag came to our commander, with a note, stating that 
General Burgoyne wanted to send a field-officer to 
him, on matters of great moment, and wishing to 
know when General Gates would see him. The reply 
was, about ten o'clock the next morning, at the ad- 
vanced post of the army of the United States. Ac- 
cordingly, at the appointed time. Gates met Lieutenant 
Kingston, Burgoyne's adjutant-general. Gates sub- 
mitted the terms he had prepared to the inspection 
of Burgoyne ; but that general objected to an article 
requiring the British to lay down their arms in their 
camp. He said that he would not admit that the 
retreat of his army was cut off while the men had 
arms in their hands. So General Gates removed that 
article from the list of terms. Negotiations were kept 



AT WHITE PLAINS. 215 

up till the 16th, when everything was arranged, 
ready for the signatures of the contracting parties. 
That act was to be performed on the 17th. On the 
night of the 16th, intelligence was communicated to 
Burgoyne, from Sir Henry Clinton, announcing the 
capture of the forts among the Hudson highlands, 
and the expedition of Vaughan and Wallace, up the 
river. This made Burgoyne anxious to avoid signing 
the articles of surrender; and Gates was made ac- 
quainted with the fact. Accordingly, on the morning 
of the 17th, we were drawn up in order of battle, 
and then Gates sent word to Burgoyne, that if he 
did n't sign the articles immediately, he would open 
a fire upon him, and that if the negotiation was to 
be broken off there, and again commenced, the terms 
would not be quite so honorable for him. So Bur- 
goyne was compelled to sign his name, and prepara- 
tions were made at once for the surrender. The 
British left their camp upon the hills, and marched 
slowly down upon the level plain, in front of old Fort 
Hardy ; and there the different companies were drawn 
up in parallel lines, and, by order of their several 
commanders, grounded their arms and emptied their 
cartridge-boxes. I did n't see this done, for Gates 
had ordered all his army within camp, out of sight 
of the vanquished British troops. Colonel Wilkinson 
was the only American present at the scene. He 
had been sent to the British camp, and, in company 



216 THE CAMP-FIRE 

with Burgoyne, selected the place where the troops 
were to lay down their arms. After the surrender, 
Burgoyne wanted to be introduced to General Gates ; 
and he was conducted to head-quarters, with his staff. 
When Gates was informed of the approach of Bur- 
goyne and his officers, he rode out to meet him, with 
his staff. When within about a sword's length, they 
reined up and halted. Colonel Wilkinson then named 
the gentlemen, and the British commander said, ' The 
fortune of war. General Gates, has made me your 
prisoner.' Then Gates replied, complimenting him 
on his bravery and generalship. I could see the 
meeting of the generals, from the place where I was 
standing at the time. Burgoyne was dressed in a 
rich uniform, of scarlet and gold, and Gates in a plain 
blue frock-coat. The officers in Burgoyne's suite 
were then introduced to Gates and his staff, and the 
whole proceeded to head-quarters. Then the British 
troops came into camp, and we entertained them as 
if they were the best friends we had in the world. 
Every comfort we had they shared with us. They 
had been pretty hard pushed for provisions for some 
days previous, and they enjoyed our plenty." 

" It 's a pity we could n't always agree with them 
in that way," said Zephaniah. " I 'd sooner share 
my loaf with a man than fight him, at any time." 

" Yes, Zephaniah, I think so, too," returned Luke. 
" It 's a great pity we can't always agree with men 



AT WHITE PLAINS. 217 

in the way we did with the British troops, after the 
surrender. But as long as there will be oppression, 
and men to fight in defence of it, there will be men 
to resist in the same way." 

" Well, I suppose you 've concluded your story ; 
have n't you ?" enquired Jim. 

" Yes, I think that 's quite enough for one night," 
returned Luke. " It must be near daybreak, any- 
how." 

Luke got up, pulled aside the canvass of the tent, 
and looked out. A few "envious streaks" were in 
the eastern horizon — harbingers of the approach of 
the blazing car of Phoebus. It was still very cold, 
and the clouds were of a leaden hue, that showed 
them burdened with a wealth of snow. Luke re- 
turned to the fire quickly, and the men sat there 
patiently, waiting for the day to dawn in full, that 
they might the sooner get their share of provisions. 
The fire was renewed, and the men stuck as close to 
it as before. In about half an hour, the reveille 
beat, and the camp was all bustle. No doubt, many 
of the soldiers had passed the night in the same 
manner as Luke and his comrades ; for the general 
fare of the soldiers was about the same as theirs. 



19 



THE CAMP-FIRE AT SARATOGA. 

Previous to the second battle of Stillwater, which 
took place on the 7th of October, General Gates, an- 
ticipating a retreat of Burgoyne's army, sent General 
Fellows, with a detachment of fourteen hundred men, 
to occupy the high grounds east of the Hudson, oppo- 
site to Saratoga ford. After the action, he sent an- 
other detachment to occupy ground higher up, near 
Fort Miller, and ordered a selected corps of two thou- 
sand men, under General Stark, to push forward, and 
occupy the heights beyond Saratoga, in the direction 
of Lake George. In this way was the retreat of Bur- 
goyne cut off. The detachment under General Stark 
effectually prevented all communication between the 
British army and Canada, which could only be made 
by way of Lake George. Their encampment was 
situated on the heights beyond Saratoga, and partly 
concealed in a wood. The detachment consisted al- 
most entirely of the New Hampshire militia, raised 
principally by General Stark himself. That general 
was very popular among the inhabitants of his native 

(218) 



THE CAMP-FIRE AT SARATOGA. 219 

region, and he could call a larger body of men to 
serve under him, than any other commander. What 
was called the New Hampshire militia, in those days, 
included not only the militia of the country that 
forms the present State of New Hampshire, but also 
those raised in the country that now forms the State 
of Vermont. At that time, this portion of territory 
was called " The New Hampshire Grant." 

It was two days before the surrender of the haughty 
Britons, at Saratoga. The detachment of General 
Stark had received the intelligence that Burgoyne 
and his officers had decided upon a surrender of their 
army ; and, though that event had been expected, 
the troops were much elated at the idea of capturing 
such a proud and well-appointed force. The evening 
was setting in, gray and dusk ; and as the nights of 
October are chilly in that high region, the camp-fires 
were blazing in the wood, and near the verge of the 
hill, on a short clearing. Each tent had its usual 
party around the fire in front of it, laughing heartily 
at the slightest joke, as men will do when anything 
occurs to put them in a very good humor, or listening 
to the narrative of some ruling spirit, recounting the 
details of some event which the speaker had seen, or 
in which he had participated. 

Before a tent in the wood, was a group of five men, 
whom we shall particularly notice. The tent was 
the one deepest in the wood, at some distance from 



220 THE CAMP-FIRE 

the rest. Either there were not seats enough for the 
whole party, or two of them did not seem anxious to 
sit down. Two of the men were seated on large 
stones, brought near the fire ; one, with his hat off, 
was enjoying the luxury of a pipe, and the other w^as 
evidently talking to the group about something full 
of interest. A young-looking individual was leaning 
his back against a tree, as he stood, with folded arms, 
at the right hand of the man with the pipe in his 
mouth. Within a few feet of the young man, stood 
another soldier, with a very good-humored Irish coun- 
tenance ; he was leaning on the bend of the bayonet 
of his musket, and also had a pipe. On the ground, 
between the two men sitting on the stones, was an- 
other individual, in a half-sitting, half-lying posture, 
with his right arm leaning upon the seat of the one 
who was smoking. They were dressed more uni- 
formly than was usual among the militia. The 
"bagonet-hat" was there; and in the case of the 
Irishman, it was cocked in a very rollicking manner 
over the left eye. Then there was the coat commonly 
worn by the continental troops, made of blue, and 
trimmed with buff. Short epaulettes were on the 
shoulders of them all. 

"You have no idea of the affair, if I can judge 
from what you say," remarked the man sitting on the 
stone next to the soldier who was smoking. " I tell 
you, it was one of the most glorious day's work, for 




THE CAMP FIRE AT SARATOGA. 



AT SARATOGA. 221 

our side, we Ve done since the commencement of the 
war." 

" Oh, Hadley, do n't put it on so thick !" said the 
one lying on the ground. " You want to magnify a 
skirmish into a battle ; do n't you ?" 

" A skirmish !" returned Hadley ; " why, if that 
was a skirmish, the war has been nothing but skir- 
mishes ! Do you know anything about the battle ?" 

" Yes ; I know that there was a few Hessians sent 
to Bennington, to capture the stores there, and that 
General Stark, who commands us now, got some 
Green Mountain boys together, and drove the enemy 
away 5 and that 's all of it," replied Seth, as the 
speaker was called. 

"Pshaw!" ejaculated Looney, the Irishman. "1 
know there was more of it. Let 's hear all about it, 
from a man that was on the spot. Go on wid ye !" 

" Yes," said Ephraim, the other gentleman with a 
pipe, " tell us the particulars, Hadley." 

" Anything that has General Stark mixed in with 
it, must be worth hearing," remarked Josiah, the 
young man leaning against the tree. 

" I 've no objection to put you in the way of hear- 
ing the right account of what Seth, here, calls ^ the 
skirmish at Bennington,' " replied Hadley. " I say 
it was a real hard-fought battle ; and I '11 tell you all 
the particulars that I'm acquainted with, and you 
may judge whether it deserved the contempt of being 
19* 



222 THE CAMP-FIRE 

called a skirmish. In my humble opinion, it did as 
much to bring about the capture of Burgoyne's army, 
as any other single event." 

"Well, I'm anxious to hear the account," said 
Ephraim. 

" Go on, and let us have it," said Looney. 

" You must know, then," began Hadley, " when I 
heard that the army of Burgoyne was moving down 
into New York, from Canada, and that General Stark 
was commissioned to raise a force of militia to protect 
the frontiers, I at once resolved to join him — our 
family being in danger, as well as any of the rest. I 
went to Charlestown, on the Connecticut ; from there, 
most of the men were sent to join Colonel Warner's 
regiment, which had taken post at Manchester, twenty 
miles above Bennington ; but I went to Bennington, 
and joined Colonel Nichols, because I knew him 
better. There Stark soon joined us. General Lin- 
coln had been sent from Stillwater, by General Schuy- 
ler, who then had command of the northern depart- 
ment of the army, to conduct the militia to the west 
bank of the Hudson ; but General Stark, you may 
have heard, was acting under orders from the Assem- 
bly of New Hampshire, and not from the General 
Government ; and he declined complying with Schuy- 
ler's request. In s^oite of some resolutions adopted 
by Congress, with the object of drawing us away from 
the protection of our own homes, General Stark kept 



AT SARATOGA. 223 

his ground. On the 13th of August, news reached 
Bennington, that a party of Indians belonging to 
Baum's force, had been perceived at Cambridge, about 
twelve miles northwest of Bennington. General Stark 
immediately sent out Lieutenant-Colonel Gregg, with 
two hundred men, to check the march of the party. 
In the course of the night, an express arrived, with 
the intelligence that a large body of the enemy, with 
a train of artillery, were in the rear of the Indians, 
on their march to Bennington. We were all sum- 
moned to get ready at once, for the enemy would 
soon be upon us. Colonel Warner was ordered to 
march his regiment down to Bennington, and a call 
was made on all the neighboring militia. Early on 
the morning of the 14th, all the force that had col- 
lected at Bennington moved forward, under General 
Stark, to support Colonel Gregg. Colonel Warner's 
regiment had not arrived, of course, but the Colonel 
himself was with usj his regiment, at Manchester, 
being under the command of Major Safford. When 
we were about four miles from Bennington, we met 
Colonel Gregg's party, in full retreat, and heard that 
the enemy was within a mile of him. We halted, 
and were drawn up in order of battle." 

" How many was in your whole army ?" enquired 
Seth. 

"About a thousand, I think," replied Hadley. "I'm 
pretty sure there was n't more than that number en- 



224 THE CAMP-FIRE 

gaged in the battle of the 16th. Well, we were 
within sight of the enemy ; and they, seeing that we 
had taken a stand, halted in a very favorable position, 
and there entrenched themselves. We found that we 
could n't draw the Dutchmen out, and we fell back 
about a mile, leaving a small party to skirmish with 
the enemy. Our party made out well in that skir- 
mish, too; for they killed and wounded thirty of 
the enemy, with two Indian chiefs, and lost none at 
all themselves. That was all that was done that 
day. The next, the 15th, was rainy, and we could 
do nothing but skirmish." 

" Did n't I tell you it was only a skirmish ?" inter- 
rupted Seth. 

" Hold on awhile, Seth, till we hear it all," said 
Ephraim. 

"Yes, hold on till I get through, and then pass 
your opinion upon it," continued Hadley. " We did 
nothing on the 15th, but skirmish ; but that skirmish- 
ing had some effect. The Indians said the woods 
were filled with Yankees, and began to desert Baum. 
The delay gave the enemy some advantages, however. 
It enabled them to complete their breastworks, and 
to send to Burgoyne for a reinforcement. On the 
morning of the 16th, we received a small reinforce- 
ment of militia, under Colonel Symonds, and then 
General Stark made preparations for an attack. The 
Dutch were posted, with their battery, on a rising 



AT SARATOGA. 225 

ground at a bend in the WoUansac, a small stream 
that runs into the Hoosac River. Their position was 
on its north bank. The ground fell off to the north 
and west ; a circumstance that Stark noted, and of 
which he made good use. On the other side of the 
stream, a body of tories were entrenched. The 
ground they occupied was lower, and nearly in front 
of the German battery. The stream was fordable in 
all places. We were encamped on the same side of 
it as the Germans ; but it was so winding and snake- 
like, that we had to cross it twice on our way to our 
position. The post of the eilemy was carefully re- 
connoitred, at a mile's distance, and the plan of attack 
was arranged. I '11 tell you how it was to be. Col- 
onel Nichols, with two hundred men, (of which I was 
one,) was detached to attack the rear of the enemy's 
left, and Colonel Herrick, with three hundred fnen, 
to fall upon the rear of their right, with orders to 
form a junction before they made the assault. Col- 
onels Hubbard and Stickney were also ordered to 
advance, with two hundred men, on their right, and 
one hundred in front, to divert their attention from 
the real point of attack. Everything being arranged, 
the battle commenced about three o'clock in the 
afternoon, by our party, (that is, Nichols',) falling on 
the rear of the enemy's left. We went up to our 
work as men should do. No regular troops could 
have done it better. We marched through their fire 

p 



226 THE CAMP-FIRE 

steadily, and the rest of our forces followed the ex- 
ample. The Indians, seeing they were about to be 
enclosed between the parties of Herrick and Nichols, 
broke away almost as soon as we began to move. 
They do n't know anything about that sort of fighting. 
As soon as General Stark heard our firing, — one of 
his men told me this, after the battle, — he said, as 
he pointed to the enemy, he ^ would gain the victory 
over them, or Molly Stark should be a widow that 
night;' and then he rushed upon the tories. From 
the time the battle commenced, till it was over, the 
fire was kept up continually. One constant roar, for 
two hours, was almost all that could be heard. I 
confess, I felt rather strange. I had never seen any- 
thing of the kind before. But I did n't think of 
running. I always had a good share of courage; 
and nothing would have cut me deeper than having 
it said I was a coward. I pressed on fearlessly with 
the men at my side. I don't know what you call 
• skirmishing,' Seth ; but if you had seen us raw 
militia walk up to the cannon's mouth, and fight over 
the breastwork, with the veterans of Germany, I 
do n't think you would have called it by such a name 
as ' skirmishing.' " 

" Did you and the rest march up to the cannon's 
mouth ?" enquired Seth. 

" Yes ; raw militia, without a single field-piece, and 
very few bagonets, marched up to the breastwork as 



AT SARATOGA. 227 

steadily as veterans, and in a heavy fire, too," replied 
Hadley. 

" I give up ; it was more than a skirmish, then," 
said Seth, generously. 

"I 'm glad to hear you say so," returned Hadley. 
" You knew very little about the affair, I suppose, 
when you made the remark. But, to go on with my 
account. General Stark soon drove the tories over 
the river, and they were thus thrown in confusion on 
the Germans, who were forced from their breastwork- 
The German commander was a really brave man, 
and he made his men stand up to receive us. His 
dragoons preserved their order unbroken ; and when 
all their ammunition was gone, their colonel led them 
to the charge with the sword. You see, these were 
Reidesel's dragoons, who were without horses, but 
were to be supplied with them, in case Baum should 
be successful. Well, we pushed them so hard, that 
they had to give way at last, leaving their artillery 
and baggage on the field. We all knew how much 
depended on our beating the enemy in that battle. 
We were fighting for our homes ; and most of us 
would rather have died, than we should have been 
defeated. Besides, just before the battle, General 
Stark promised the militia all the plunder that might 
be taken. This served as an additional incentive to 
action, and the men went at the foe as if they were 
certain of victory, and had no idea of being defeated." 



228 THE CAMP-FIRE 

" Did you pursue the inemy ?" asked Looney. 

" No," replied Hadley. " They had no sooner been 
driven from the field, than we dispersed to collect 
the plunder. Guns, drums, bayonets, broadswords, 
and other things, belonging to the Hessians, were 
scattered all over the field, and we secured them in a 
hurry, I tell you. I 've got a splendid gun and bago- 
net at home, that I took for my share of the spoils. 
I had an ugly, heavy, grenadier's hat, that made me 
wonder how the Hessians managed to walk under 
them, but I gave it away. It was about five o'clock, 
when we dispersed in the way I told you. Suddenly, 
the news was brought that a large reinforcement of 
Hessians was on the march towards the battle-field, 
and that Baum's flying troops had rallied. The rein- 
forcement was under the command of Colonel Brey- 
man, the brave German officer that was killed here at 
Stillwater, the other day. They had been detained 
by the rain and the badness of the roads, and just 
happened to arrive as their friends were defeated. I 
suppose they must have been very much worn with 
marching ; and that, together with the disappointment 
of finding Baum defeated, helped, no doubt, to put 
them in low spirits. General Stark tried all he could 
to collect the militia ; but if Colonel Warner's regi- 
ment had not arrived on the field just as Breyman 
appeared, the day would have been turned against 
us. Warner's regiment numbered less than two hun- 



AT SARATOGA. 229 

dred. They were not many, but they were fresh ; 
and they fell upon the enemy with great vigor. I 
was among those who were rallied by General Stark, 
and we pushed forward to the assistance of Warner. 
Then followed an obstinate and bloody contest. The 
Germans stood their ground bravely. Baum was 
wounded and made prisoner. General Stark's horse 
was shot under him, as he was in the thickest of the 
fight, cheering the men. The day was very warm, it 
being in August ; and it was a wonder to me, how 
those Hessians could fight when they were fully 
equipped. About sunset, the enemy were forced to 
give way ; and then, feeling sure of victory, we pur- 
sued them, as they fled in every direction, till dark, 
when General Stark was obliged to draw ofi* the men, 
for fear they might shoot each other, in mistake. 
The whole force sent against us, was either killed, 
captured, or dispersed." 

" What was their actual loss ?" asked Seth. " No 
exaggeration, now." 

" I can prove what I 'm going to tell you, if you 
doubt it," replied Hadley. " There was two hundred 
and seven killed on the spot, and about seven hun- 
dred prisoners taken. The wounded were not esti- 
mated. It is said that Burgoyne lately acknowledged 
a loss of 1220 men by that day's battle, though I 
cannot vouch for the truth of the statement. Our 
loss was only thirty killed and forty wounded." 
20 



230 THE CAMP-FIRE 

" That was a splendid victory for raw troops to 
achieve, — there 's no mistake about it," said Ephraim, 
taking a long puff of his pipe before he spoke. '■ I 
suppose the credit is due almost entirely to Generu ; 
Stark." 

" Yes, he was the spirit that brought it all about," 
replied Hadley. " He infused an ardor into the men, 
that no other leader could have inspired them with. 
They knew what sort of a man their leader was, and 
what he expected of them ; and they came up to 
expectation. I shall never forget his appearance 
when he was trying to rally the dispersed militia. 
His face was flushed, even at the thought of the day's 
turning against us. ^ Come, men,' said he, ' throw 
down your spoils and make the day sure. You can 
whip them, and you must !' How he dashed to 
Warner's assistance, as soon as he had rallied a little 
band around him ! He, no doubt, remembered his 
determination to win the day, or die in the attempt." 

" That battle shows what a few determined men 
can do, even without the equipments of an army," 
remarked Seth. 

" I suppose you had more spile, after the second 
fight, than you had before," said Looney. 

" Oh, plenty of it," returned Hadley. " We took 
four pieces of brass cannon. When the first one was 
taken, none of the men knew how to manage it ; and 
Stark went and attended to it himself That 's what 



AT SARATOGA. 231 

makes the thing more laughable. Men who did n't 
know how to manage a cannon after they had cap- 
tured it, drove regular soldiers from behind breast- 
works defended with cannon ! Then there was about 
three hundred stand of arras, two hundred and fifty 
dragoon swords, four ammunition wagons, and twelve 
brass drums, captured ; and most of them fell to the 
troops." 

" I wish we had something drinkable," remarked 
Ephraim. " I 'd like to drink the General's health." 

"Ah !" ejaculated Looney, smacking his lips, "whis- 
key would be the darlin' to do it wid. But it 's of no 
use ; we can't git any." 

" Well," said Hadley, " we '11 make an engagement 
to drink his health with the first liquor we get a 
chance at. Mind you — Hhe health of Brigadier-Gen- 
eral John Stark,' must be your first drink." 

" Och, we '11 mind it," returned Looney. " I think 
we 'd better let the fire go out, and go in, though. I 
fale like slapin' a wink." 

" Hold on a bit, Looney," said Seth ; " Eph says 
he 's going to sing us a song first." 

"Who said so?" enquired Ephraim; anxiously 
waiting to be coaxed to sing. 

" Oh, come, no blarney," said Looney ; " sing away 
wid ye, mon " 

" Do, Eph," added Josiah, " I want to hear a good 
song. 



232 THE CAMP-FIRE 

But Ephraim would wait for more coaxing; and 
nobody appearing anxious to humor him, Hadley 
said : — 

" Since Ephraim won't sing, I '11 volunteer to sing 
you a song I learned not a great while ago. It's 
about the subject that has interested you to-night — 
the battle of Bennington." 

Ephraim looked somewhat abashed at this, but said 
nothing. 

"I don't pretend to sing," said Hadley; "so I 
do n't want you to find fault with my voice or manner 
of singing." 

" Divil a bit," returned Looney. " Go on wid ye ;" 
and Hadley trolled out, in a very ordinary voice, the 
following song, commemorative of the battle of Ben- 
nington : — 

Eemember the glories of patriots brave, 

Though the days of the heroes are o'er; 
Long lost to their country, and cold in their grave, 

They return to their kindred no more. 
The stars of the field, which in victory pour'd 

Their beams on the battle, are set; 
But enough of their glory remains on each sword 

To light us to victory yet! 

Wollansac ! when nature embellish'd the tint 

Of thy fields and thy mountains so fair, 
Did she ever intend that a tyrant should print 

The footsteps of slavery there? 



AT SARATOGA. 233 

No ! Freedom, wliose smiles we shall never resign, 

Told those who invaded our plains, 
That 't is sweeter to bleed for an age at thy shrine. 

Than to sleep for a moment in chains. 

Forget not the chieftain of Hampshire, who stood 

In the day of distress by our side; 
Nor the heroes who nourish'd the fields with their blood. 

Nor the rights they secured as they died. 
The sun that now blesses our eyes with his light. 

Saw the martyrs of liberty slain; 
0, let him not blush when he leaves us to-night. 

To find that they fell there in vain ! 

" Good !" exclaimed the Irishman ; briefly express- 
ing his satisfaction, when Hadley had concluded, 

"The words are strongly patriotic," remarked 
Ephraim, " and the tune passable. Your account of 
the battle of Bennington has filled me with such an 
admiration of General Stark, that I '11 have to learn 
that song, if it 's only to glorify him." 

" I '11 learn it to all of you, some other time," said 
Hadley. " Let 's go in, now ; it must be about ten 
o'clock." 

The fire had been gradually dying out, while the 
men were engaged in conversation, and the last few 
embers were paling their light by this time. The 
whole five went into the tent, to seek repose for the 
night. Most of the fires had been extinguished long 
before, and the deep shadow of the wood enveloped 
20* 



234 THE CAMP-FIRE AT SARATOGA. 

the greater part of the encampment in gloom. Upon 
the clearing, near the edge of the hill — for the de- 
scent was very steep — three or four fires had been 
kept burning, by the sentinels on duty, to warm and 
light them in their lonely walk. 



THE CAMP-FIRE AT MIDDLEBROOK. 

The campaign of 1778 having closed, the American 
army went into winter quarters. Nine brigades were 
stationed on the west side of the Hudson River, ex- 
clusive of the garrison at West Point. One of these 
brigades was quartered near Smith's Cove, where it 
could serve as a reinforcement to West Point, should 
it be necessary ; another, at Elizabethtown ; and the 
remaining seven, at Middlebrook ; which place was 
likewise selected for head-quarters. Six brigades 
were cantoned on the east side of the Hudson, and 
at West Point, as follows : — one at West Point ; two 
at the Continental Village, a post between Fishkill 
and West Point ; and three in the vicinity of Dan- 
bury, in Connecticut. The artillery was at Plucke- 
min. A line of cantonments was thus formed around 
New York, from Long Island Sound to the Delaware, 
so disposed as to give security to the country, and to 
reinforce each other, in case of an incursion of the 
enemy to any particular point. Another oliject at- 
tained by this arrangement, was the easy subsistence 

(235) 



236 THE C*AMP-FIRE 

of the troops. General M'Dougal commanded in the 
Highlands, and General Putnam at Danbury. 

Until February of 1779, the troops at Middlebrook 
were obliged to live in canvass tents, suffering ex- 
tremely from exposure to cold and storms. By that 
time, the soldiers had completed some log huts, which 
gave them a comfortable shelter for the rest of the 
winter. These huts were erected by the soldiers, 
without tools, except the axe and saw ; and a descrip- 
tion of their manner of building them may not prove 
uninteresting. They were constructed of the trunks 
of trees, cut into various lengths, according to the 
size of the building for which they were intended, 
and firmly connected by notches cut in their extre- 
mities, after the manner of dovetailing. The spaces 
between the logs were filled in with plastering, con- 
sisting of mud and clay. The roof was formed of 
similar pieces of timber, and covered with hewn slabs. 
The chimney, situated at one end of the house, was 
made of similar, but smaller timbers ; and both the 
inner and the outer sides were covered with clay 
plaster, to defend the wood against the fire. The 
doors and windows were formed by sawing away a 
part of the logs where the openings were required, 
and the pieces sawed out were then arranged to move 
on wooden hinges. The huts were placed in straight 
lines ; thus forming a regular, uniform, and compact 
village. The officers' huts were situated in front of 



AT MIDDLEBROOK. 237 

the line, according to their rank. The kitchens were 
in the rear, and the whole was similar in form to a 
tent encampment. The ground, for a considerable 
distance in front of the soldiers' line of huts, was 
cleared of wood, stumps, and rubbish, and every 
morning swept clean, for the purpose of a parade- 
ground and roll-call of the respective regiments. The 
officers' huts were in general divided into two apart- 
ments, and were occupied by three or four officers, 
who composed one mess. Those occupied by the 
privates had but one room, which contained ten or 
twelve men, with their cabins or bunks, which were 
placed one above another, against the walls, and filled 
with straw, and a blanket for each man. 

It was February ; and fires were burning in every 
hut at Middlebrook. It was night, too; and each 
lowly habitation had its group of men seated around 
the fire, which blazed up cheerfully, shedding light 
and heat around. The soldiers could well appreciate 
the comforts of these huts, after living in the slight 
canvass tents that had served them for their former 
habitations. No doubt they thought of peace, and 
all the enjoyments of a quiet fireside, while lolling 
around their fires, of an evening, cracking jokes and 
relating adventures; but if they did, it must have 
been only to vent imprecations on the heads of the 
tyrants who had forced them into their present situa- 
tion. Strange characters were sometimes joined in 



238 THE CAMP-FIRE 

the same mess, which tended to make their conversa- 
tion a better study than is usually afforded. There 
was one, in particular, which bore this character. 
The mess we speak of, occupied a hut at one ex- 
tremity of the encampment. It was composed of the 
most incongruous characters that could have been 
found anywhere. A backwoodsman, (the people of 
the western part of New York were called ' back- 
woodsmen,' in those days,) an Irishman, several Yan- 
kees, and various others, from the Middle States, 
including a Conestoga farmer, from Pennsylvania, a 
broken-down literary gentleman, from New York, and 
others, whose previous occupations were of a very 
doubtful character. 

Upon the particular night of which we speak, the 
elements were at war out of doors — the wind blow- 
ing fiercely, and snow and rain falling; just such a 
night as is calculated to make us enjoy a good fire 
and pleasant company. The mess were seated around 
the fire, in a semicircle ; seated, we say, but only 
after a fashion. There were a few boards laid in 
front of the fire, upon which the most of them were 
half-sitting, half-lying. There was evidently a sort 
of respect manifested for the quondam literary man, 
as there generally is for the man " who writes for the 
papers." His opinions, expressed in better language 
than his comrades could command, and delivered in a 
very confident manner, were always listened to with 



jsi 



AT MIDDLEBROOK. 239 

grave attention, and they generally decided the oft- 
recurring disputes between the members of the mess. 
They were discussing some of the events of the pre- 
ceding campaign ; but their principal topic was the 
battle at Monmouth Court-House, the great event of 
that campaign. 

" Well, Conestogey," said one of the Yankees, "you 
may talk away there, as much as your thick Dutch 
tongue will let you — I tell you, it 's a fact." 

The Yankee was evidently endeavoring to make 
the Pennsylvanian swallow a rather knotty yarn. 

" Come, come," remarked another of the company, 
" that 's a pretty good one for you, Josiah, but it 's 
bad money ; it won't pass !" 

" Well, if you do n't b'lieve it, there 's an end of 
it," returned Josiah. 

"What's that he don't believe?" enquired the 
literary man, rousing himself from a state of musing, 
or listlessness, into which he had fallen. 

" Why," replied Josiah, " I was tellin' 'em about a 
red-coat that I killed at the battle of Monmouth, in 
an outlandish kind of a way. He got separated from 
his troop, and so did I; but it seemed as how he 
warn't of the right grit. He went skulkin' around 
among the trees, afeared to show himself, when I 
caught sight on him. There was two trees atween 
me and him ; but as I had a pretty good sort of a fire- 
lock with me, I did n't think about waitin' till I had 



240 THE CAMP-FIRE 

a better chance, so I let drive at him ; and sour my 
■uncle's milk, if the ball did n't go aclean through both 
trees, and lodged right plump in the breast of the 
red-coat — killin' him on the spot." 

"About how thick were those trees, Josiah ?" asked 
the literary man, critically 

" Divil a bit o' difference to him," put in the Hiber- 
nian, who had been listening to the conversation. 

" Well," replied Josiah, without paying any atten- 
tion to the Irishman's remark, " I guess abeout a foot 
through." 

" Well, I never !" ejaculated another of the ' down- 
easters.' 

"Naw, naw," said the grum Conestoga farmer, 
shaking his head. 

"Josiah," said the king of the mess, the literary 
man, looking severely at the down-easter, "it's im- 
possible to do anything of the sort, and you never did 
do it. Let your next story have a little probability 
in it, or we '11 make you keep your talk to yourself." 

" Well, all I 've got to say is, that it 's a fact," re- 
plied Josiah ; " but as you do n't seem to like my 
story, suppose you tell one, yourself." 

"Yes, do," said the backwoodsman, who had re- 
mained quiet till now, "I like to hear you tell a 
story ; you can talk like a lawyer, right to the p'int, 
without any flummery." 

" Ah, boys," said the literary man, sighing, " I 've 



AT MIDDLEBROOK. 241 

seen the day when I would not yield to anybody the 
superiority in the telling of a story, or writing one, 
either — but that 's past now ; and as I feel my years 
growing upon me, I also feel the decline of my 
powers. I '11 do my best to amuse you, however, if 
you 11 only make allowances." 

The men nodded their heads, in acquiescence, for 
they really did like to hear him talk. It was very 
seldom that they came across a man, among the com- 
mon soldiery, who possessed his quality of tongue. 
He was probably one of a class of men, who, though 
possessed of real talent, have such a shrinking nature, 
such a distrust of their own abilities, that they never 
aspire to rank among the higher class of intellects, 
but content themselves with living and acting among 
a class who are much their inferiors. Had he pos- 
sessed confidence enough, no doubt he might have 
obtained a commission in the army ; but he had not 
that quality, and therefore was among the privates. 
After clearing his throat, and replenishing the fire 
with a few more sticks of wood, he commenced : — 

" The mention of the battle at Monmouth Court- 
House, called to my mind various incidents which 
occurred on that day ; some of these, I presume, one 
or two of you are acquainted with ; but the others, 
I know, did not come under your notice. Those of 
you who were present at the battle, were, according 
to your own account, with General Greene. I hap- 
21 Q 



242 THE CAMP-FIRE 

pened to be with the left wing of the army, under 
General Lee. What I 'm going to tell you about, are 
the incidents that occurred to the left wing of our 
army, that day. You know, that we retreated, and 
that that retreat prevented us from achieving a 
glorious victory. The retreat was a mistake of 
General Scott's judgment; he thought a movement 
on his right, made by a portion of our troops, was a 
retreat. We fell back across a morass, and through 
a wood, which we were to have occupied. As soon 
as General Lee was informed of our retreat, he ex- 
pressed his disapprobation of General Scott's conduct, 
in strong terms ; but, instead of endeavoring to regain 
the ground that Scott had lost, he sent word to La- 
fayette to meet him at the court-house, and continued 
to fall back towards a point where he proposed to 
make a stand. The day was excessively warm, and 
the continued marching of the troops, beneath the 
blazing sun, and through sand knee-deep, caused 
many a poor fellow to drop down, never to rise again. 
A comrade of mine, Ben Hansel, was among the 
number. He and I had enlisted together; we had 
passed side by side through the same battles ; and 
when I was wounded, he watched over me like a 
brother; he knew I would have done the same for 
him. I saw Ben fall, and I could n't go on with the 
troops, and let him die alone and untended, like a 
cast-off dog. I went to the captain, and begged him, 



M 



AT MIDDLEBROOK. 243 

for God's sake, to let me stop and assist poor Ben, 
that I might save his life, if possible. The captain 
was a humane man; he sympathized with me, but 
said that we needed all the men we could get. He 
said there was no hope of Ben's recovery, and that I 
could n't be spared just then. I persisted in entreat- 
ing him ; but he said he must not forget his duty, and 
refused me any further hearing. I struggled for 
awhile between my friendship for poor Ben and my 
obedience to the captain's dictates; but friendship 
triumphed in the end ; and, watching my opportunity, 
I dropped away from the company, and hastened back 
to where poor Ben laid. He had dragged himself to 
a bank beneath a tree, by the roadside ; and there he 
lay, gasping for breath, his face flushed extremely, 
and his limbs lying perfectly useless. I knew that 
he had not a great while to live, as soon as I looked 
at him. I had suffered a good deal from the heat 
and toil of marching, and knew that I was stronger 
than Ben ; for he had experienced a long spell of 
sickness. I rushed up to him, and unfastened his 
jacket and vest, so as to give him as much air as pos- 
sible. He knew me at once, and as he languidly 
opened his eyes, gasped out, ^ Is that you, Jack ?' I 
answered him, and told him I had contrived to get 
away, to take care of him. ' God bless you for it. 
Jack,' he murmured, ' but it 's of little use — I 'm 
going fast.' I tried to comfort him as much as I 



244 THE CAMP-FIRE 

could ; but I needed more comfort than I could give ; 
for Ben was the truest friend I ever had, and I was 
going to lose him. I felt his hand ; it was growing 
cold. He managed to gasp a request for water ; and 
I left him for a few minutes, while I went in search 
of some. I found a brook near by, and returned to 
Ben, with a cup-full of the water. I always carried 
a small tin cup with me, when on duty. I held the 
cup to his parched lips, and he sipped it slowly, till 
it seemed to revive him a little. 'Jack,' said he, 
' you 've been a true friend to me, and there 's a re- 
ward for such as you. When you go to Philadelphia 
again, go and see my wife ; and tell Mary that I 
thought of her as long as God gave me power to 
think. You '11 find, in my pocket, a love-knot of her 
hair and mine — take that to her ; and do you. Jack, 
take anything that I have about me, to make you 
think of me sometimes.' I promised him all he 
asked, and he wrung my hand with the little strength 
he had left. I shed tears ; I could n't help it." 

" You 're a man for doin' that same," interrupted 
the Irishman, who, like all the rest, had been deeply 
interested in the narrative. The literary gentleman 
brushed a tear from his eye, and proceeded : — 

"Ben had just strength enough left to murmur, 
^ God bless you, Jack — God bless my wife !' and his 
limbs stiffened, and I felt the hand I held grow cold ; 
he was dead. I wept for awhile over the body of my 



AT MIDDLEBROOK. 245 

old comrade, and then I was forced to leave it. My 
company had long been out of sight, but I made all 
the haste I could to overtake them. They must have 
taken a very roundabout road, for nought could I see 
of them. I was fearful of falling into the hands of 
the enemy, and so I thought it best to take to the 
wood for cover. I passed cautiously through it, till I 
came near the edge of it, when I climbed a tall pine, 
to look around me before I proceeded further. There, 
just without the wood, I saw a squadron of horse, 
and a party of officers, whom I knew were Americans. 
Upon closer scrutiny, I discovered the figure of the 
commander-in-chief, who was evidently engaged in an 
altercation with another officer. This, I afterwards 
ascertained, was General Lee, to whom Washington 
was addressing some very indignant remarks Lee 
seemed to be very much excited by General Wash- 
ington's language ; but Washington rode away soon 
after, followed by his aids. I knew, from seeing some 
of our troops who were under the command of Lee, 
that I could not be far off from my regiment, and I 
therefore descended the tree, and walked cautiously 
to the edge of the wood, when I could see the bat- 
talions under the command of Colonels Stewart and 
Ramsay, who had been ordered to form, by Washing- 
ton, and, under cover of the corner of the wood, to 
await the approach of the British. I took a circuitous 
route through the wood, and joined my company 
21* 



246 THE CAMP-FIRE 

without being observed by the captain. The men, I 
knew, would not inform on me. The British pressed 
on us close, and their light horse came down on us 
with such a force, that we broke and fled. We had 
to give way so fast, that we came out of the wood 
almost mixed up with the enemy. Livingston's regi- 
ment and Varnum's brigade had been stationed along 
the fence and in the open field, in front of the bridge 
over the morass, across which we had retreated be- 
fore, and they received the British with a heavy fire ; 
while the artillery, that had retired to the rear of the 
fence, poured some grape-shot into them. But they 
came on with a force we could not withstand ; and a 
charge of their horse, broke Livingston's and Var- 
num's troops, who had covered our retreat, and they 
retired. Colonel Ogden had been ordered to take a 
position in the wood nearest the bridge, and to defend 
that post to the last extremity, in order to cover the 
retreat of the whole over the bridge ; and he executed 
his orders to the letter. We all retreated safely over 
the bridge, and advanced to take a position on an 
eminence to w^iich Lee had been directed. The Gen- 
eral was one of the last men on the field, and brought 
off" the rear himself. He was a brave man, whatever 
his faults may have been, and sustained his reputa- 
tion admirably during the rest of the day. The 
stand we had made, though a very short one, served 
to check the advance of the enemy, and to give time 



AT MIDDLEBROOK. 247 

to form the left wing and second line of the main 
army, in. the wood and on the hill to which Lee was 
ordered. But you are nearly all acquainted with 
most of the other events of that day's fight, and I '11 
not repeat them. I saw Washington several times, 
in the thickest part of the action, where the bullets 
were whistling around him, and many of the soldiers 
fighting hand to hand. He was encouraging the 
men, and giving his orders with the calmness he 
always exhibits in the hour of danger. His white 
horse and his tall form offered a good mark for the 
enemy ; but he was unharmed. Night overtook us 
in the midst of a movement to attack the British in 
the strong position to which they had retreated, and 
we laid upon our arms during the night, with the in- 
tention of attacking them next morning. Never 
were men more desirous of rest than we. We were 
almost worn out by the heat of the weather and the 
toil of marching and fighting. I laid down among 
the rest ; but although I was as tired as the most of 
them, I could n't sleep. The moon was shining clear 
and beautiful in the sky above, and everything on 
the field was visible to me. I was half-sitting, half- 
lying on the ground, pretty much in the same position 
as at present, musing on the scene presented to my 
eye, and on the events of the day. Among the sub- 
jects of my thoughts, was poor Ben Hansel, of whose 
death I told you ; I thought of his young wife, and 



248 THE CAMP-FIRE 

the message I was to convey to her, if I ever returned 
to Philadelphia. I had no wife of my own, but I 
could appreciate Ben's devotion to her, truly ; and I 
thought that perhaps she was looking at that moon 
above me, and wondering how many moons would 
pass away before her husband returned to her. The 
sentinels were pacing on the outside of the lines of 
sleeping soldiers ; and as I looked at them, I thought 
how tired the' poor fellows must be, and how anxious 
for their time to expire, that they might be relieved. 
I felt a little rested myself, and got up and offered to 
relieve one of them, and he accepted the offer grate- 
fully ; lying down near where I was to act as sentinel, 
in order, I supposed, to guard against treachery, 
which the offer, at such a time, no doubt, had sug- 
gested to him. I soon discovered the cause of his 
carefulness. Under a tree, within my range, lay the 
form of the commander-in-chief. He was wrapped 
in his cloak, and had a soldier's knapsack under his 
head, for a pillow. There he lay, evidently sleeping 
as soundly and sweetly as an infant. No one would 
have thought that the man who was there sleeping 
so calmly, had that day directed the movements of a 
large army, and had fought among them, in the most 
dangerous and best-contested positions. Men, let me 
tell you, the man who has that much command over 
himself, must be a great man. I couldn't sleep, 
though very tired, because of my little troubles ; yet 



AT MIDDLEBROOK. 249 

this man, to whom a nation looked as its support, 
slept quietly as the ocean in the calm that sometimes 
succeeds the storm." 

" Well, you 're not done ; are you ?" enquired one 
of the down-easters, as the narrator paused. He did 
not answer immediately, but seemed wrapped in deep 
thought. 

" Did you see your friend's wife, 'cordin' to pro- 
mise ?" asked the backwoodsman, who had been much 
interested in the narrative of Ben's death. 

"All in good time, men," replied the narrator. 
" You know the British decamped during the night, 
without our knowledge. The main body of the army 
afterwards drew off to the borders of the North 
River. I tried to get permission from the commander 
of the regiment, to go to Philadelphia j but I could 
not. I therefore wrote a letter to Ben's wife, giving 
an account of his death, and enclosed the love-knot 
formed of their hair. Soon after, I received a letter 
from her, full of expressions of gratitude to me, and 
grief for the loss of her husband. She asked me to 
keep up a correspondence with her, as she was now 
alone in the world, and I had been her husband's 
friend ; and I accordingly have done so ever since." 

" Then," said the Hibernian, " you must give us a 
bit o' the cake, when the weddin' comes off." 

The listeners laughed, but the person addressed did 
not give the remark any attention. No doubt, he 



250 THE CAMP-FIRE AT MIDDLEBROOK. 

was imagining the war over, and a neat little cottage 
by the side of a stream, with his friend's wife under 
his protection. 

" Noting like a goot vrow dat can work," remarked 
the Conestoga farmer. 

" Well, men," said the literary man, rousing him- 
self. " It 's about time for us to bunk. "We '11 fix the 
fire, and then turn in." 

The fire was arranged for the night, and the mess 
sought their comfortable bunks. There, revelling in 
dreams of the battle of Monmouth, and poor Bei; and 
his wife, we leave them for the present. 



the camp-fire at middlebrook. 

(continued.) 

The next night after the one on which we intro- 
duced the mess at Middlebrook to the reader, they 
were gathered around the fire, as usual. The Penn- 
sylvanian, looking grum as possible ; the Irishman, 
humming a rollicking reel-tune ; the literary man, 
musing, with his head resting on his hands, and 
looking vacantly at the fire ; the Yankees from Con- 
necticut, trying to outdo the backwoodsman, with 
the strength of their yarns j and the remainder, half 
asleep, presented a picture for the painter, and for 
which the pen is inadequate. 

" Och, murther, but this is a slapey way o' doin' 
the business," said the Irishman. " Won't some of 
yez sing, or tell us a story, or do anythin' to make 
life amongst yez ?" 

Nobody answered the appeal of the Irishman ; and 
he was on the point of commencing the " Boys of 
Kilkenny," or the " Sprig of Shillelah," when he was 
prevented, by one of the party volunteering to give 

(251) 



252 THE CAMP-FIRE 

an account of an adventure in which he was a parti- 
cipant. The Irishman was very willing to forego the 
pleasure of hearing himself sing, and all were ready 
to hear anything capable of amusing them. 

" What 's it abeout ?" enquired one of the indivi- 
duals from Connecticut. 

" Is there a lady in it ?" said another of the com- 
pany. 

" No insinuations," returned the literary gentleman, 
raising himself from his musing position. " Go on 
with your narrative," he continued, addressing the 
volunteer. 

" Well," commenced that individual, after fixing 
himself in a comfortable position, " you must know, 
it was about two years ago, while the armies were 
manoeuvring at Saratoga, expecting a battle every 
day, I resided on my father's farm, in the vicinity. I 
had not joined the army under Gates, because my 
parents were getting old, and I could not be spared. 
There was a good many young men living near me, 
who were anxious to join the army and fight for their 
country, but were prevented by circumstances of a 
like character. However, we often formed parties to 
capture picket-guards and foraging detachments, be- 
longing to the British, and sometimes to annoy those 
of the neighbors who professed an attachment to the 
royal cause ; thus serving our country, though we 
could not do so, regularly, in the field. It is one of 



AT MIDDLEBROOK. 253 

these adventures that I 'm going to tell you about. 
There was about twenty of us who assembled regu- 
larly, upon four nights of the week. Our farm was 
generally the meeting-place, and there we planned 
the excursions we made. Intelligence was brought 
us, by one of our number, that there was an advance 
picket-guard of the British stationed on the north 
bank of the Middle Ravine, (or Mill Creek, as it was 
sometimes called,) which consisted of about thirty 
men ; and he suggested that it would be an easy thing 
to surprise them. The prospect of an adventure 
heartily pleased us all ; and we resolved to undertake 
it, if for nothing else, for the sake of the frolic. Ac- 
cordingly, everything was arranged, and the next 
night was set apart for the undertaking. Our farm 
was selected as the rendezvous, and every man was 
ordered to provide himself with a fowling-piece, and 
plenty of powder and shot. Bill Hurley, the oldest 
and most experienced one of the band, was selected 
for the post of captain. I was the lieutenant. Every- 
thing was kept secret till the next night arrived. 
We assembled, about an hour before dark, in the 
woods near our house. All were equipped according 
to agreement, and Bill Hurley had brought with him 
something for the party's refreshment — nothing less 
than a bottle of old rye whiskey, with a long swig of 
which, we put ourselves in tune for the work. We 
started, and marched silently and cautiously through 
22 



254 THE CAMP-FIRE 

the wood ; each man carrying his fowling-piece in his 
hand, and the whole party walking in Indian file. 
Bill Hurley had also brought with him an old horse- 
trumpet; though for what purpose, he did not ex- 
plain. After marching about an hour, the captain 
gave us notice that the picket was not far off, and 
sent one of the party to reconnoitre, while the rest 
of us halted till we heard his report. He soon re- 
turned, and informed us that we were near the edge 
of the wood, and that directly beyond it was the 
picket-guard, without the least appearance of prepa- 
ration for an enemy, or suspicion of the approach of 
one. The captain immediately gave us directions 
how we were to make the attack, and exhorted us all 
to do our duty. We did n't need much exhorting, 
however; we were too anxious to make the attack. 
We advanced silently to the edge of the wood, creep- 
ing among the bushes wherever there was a chance 
to do so, till we caught sight of the British coats. It 
was just about twilight; and it was evident, from the 
manner in which the enemy were disjDosed around — 
some talking in groups, leaning on their guns ; and 
others, feeling still more secure than the rest, lying 
on the ground — that they were unsuspicious of the 
vicinity of danger. Suddenly, Bill Hurley blew a 
tremendous blast on the old horse-trumpet, and the 
whole party of us rushed out of the bushes, yelling 
and howling like a whole tribe of Indians going into 



AT MIDDLEBROOK. 255 

battle. Our captain cried out, at the top of his voice, 
* Ground your arms, or you 're all dead men !' and the 
enemy immediately surrendered. No doubt, they 
thought half of the American army was upon them, 
from the noise we made. We soon made sure of their 
arms, and then marched them off to the American 
camp, like regular prisoners of war. We laughed 
and joked the whole way there, about British soldiers 
surrendering to a few young farmers, who never were 
on a field of battle in their lives ; and they seemed 
to feel their degradation. The soldiers in camp wel- 
comed us with shouts, and we delivered our prisoners 
into their custody. Few parties ever had a more 
jolly time of it, than we had that night, after we 
returned home. We roused up the folks at our house, 
and had a glorious frolic, in eating and drinking, and 
dancing. That was only one of our excursions, but 
it'll do for a specimen." 

When the New-Yorker had concluded his story, he 
replenished the fire, and fixed his eyes on it, as a 
means of diverting attention from himself, as modest 
men sometimes do, after they have occupied the com- 
pany with their conversation for a length of time. 

" That must have been a bold fellow, that captain 
of yours," observed the backwoodsman. " It takes a 
confounded sight of pluck, to undertake to capture 
thirty British soldiers, with twenty farmers, whose 
only weapons are fowling-pieces." 



256 the' camp-fire 

"He wasn't alone in his boldness," returned the 
narrator of the incident. " We were all as anxious 
to attack the picket, and as bold in doing it, as he 
was." 

" Well," said Josiah, who had been listening to the 
story with an incredulity natural to those who are in 
the habit of violating the truth, " I '11 be darned if I 
believe it. It ain't one bit more nateral than my 
story about shootin' that red-coat through two trees, 
each a foot thick ; you critters would n't swaller that, 
and I '11 be darned if you ought n't to throw up at 
this one !" 

" Come, come," interposed the literary man, " have 
some conscience, Josiah. This story is very probable. 
There have been many such incidents during the war. 
Some have come under my own notice. But nobody 
can believe your story, because it's impossible for 
such a feat to be done." 

" Well," replied Josiah, with the air of a man who, 
his credit being called in question, considers it of 
little moment, " hev it your own way, as the man said 
when he was beatin' his horse, and the horse would 
turn round." 

" Yes," said the backwoodsman, " we will have it 
our own way ; but do n't you beat us with any more 
such yarns as that, or we '11 beat you !" 

" Oh, come, do n't let 's have any more talking 
about the matter. It 's not worth it," observed the 



AT MIDDLEBROOK. 257 

literary gentleman, with his usual decisive judgment. 
" Will any of you sing ?" 

No one answering the appeal, the speaker said he 
would sing, himself, though he had no voice for sing- 
ing, and, besides, had a bad cold. The company 
listened to these excuses as things of course, and the 
volunteer, after sundry other indispensable prelimi- 
naries, proceeded with a song very popular during 
the Revolutionary war, and which, he said, would do 
more credit to his patriotism than his literary taste. 

The day is broke; my boys, push on, 
And follow, follow Washington, 

'Tis he that leads the way, 

'Tis he that leads the way; 

When he commands, we will obey. 
Through rain or snow, by night or day, 

Determined to be free. 

Determined to be free. 

Kind Providence our troops inspires 
With more than Greek or Roman fires. 

Until our cause prevails. 

Until our cause prevails. 

Heaven has favor'd a virtuous few. 
The tyrant's legions to subdue; 

For justice never fails, 

For justice never fails. 

22* R 



258 THE*CAMP-FIRE 

Witt heart and hand, and God our trust, 
We'll freely fight — our cause is just. 

Push on, my boys, push on, 

Push on, my boys, push on! 

Till Freedom reigns, our hearty bands 
WiU fight like true Americans, 

And follow, follow Washington, 

And follow, follow Washington. 

" That 's one of the songs of '76," remarked the 
smger, when he had concluded. " That was written 
soon after the surrender of the Hessians, at Tren- 
ton." 

" We 're to credit it to you, as original, I suppose ?" 
asked the New-Yorker. 

"You needn't mind that," replied the literary 
man. The song will do tolerably well to amuse a 
mess like this, but nothing more." 

" Ah ! I see how it is — your modesty prevents 
you from claiming it," said the New-Yorker. 

" Well," said the literary man, anxious to divert 
attention from his song, " some of you must follow. 
Josiah, can't you give us a song ? we 're not hard to 
please." 

"Oh," replied Josiah, "my singin's so orful bad; 
oesides, I do n't know nothin' but ' Yankee Doodle,' 
and ^ Come out, ye Continentallers.' " 

" Well, we ain't tired of hearin' them 'ere songs ; 



AT MIDDLEBROOK. 259 

just drive ahead with one of 'em," said the back- 
woodsman. 

"Anything to keep the pot a b'ilin'," added one of 
the Yankees. 

Cheered on by these observations, Josiah sang, in 
the peculiarly nasal tones of the people of New Eng- 
land, the following song : — 

COME OUT, YE C ONTINENT ALLERS . 

Come out, ye continentallers ! 

We're going for to go 
To fight the red-coat enemy, 

Who 're plaguy "cute," you know. 

Now, shoulder whoop ! — eyes right and dress — 

Front ! -T- Davis, wipe your nose — 
Port whoop ! — that 's slick — now, carry whoop ! 

Mike Jones, turn out your toes. 

Charge bag'net ! — that's your sort, my boys : 
Now, quick time ! — march ! — that 's right ; 

Just so we'd poke the enemy, 
If they were but in sight. 

Halt ! — shoulder whoop ! — stop laughing, Nick — 

By platoons, wheel ! — halt — dress ! 
Hold up your muzzles on the left; 

No talking, more or less. 

Bill Sneezer, keep your canteen down, 
We're going for to travel; 



260 THE CAMP-FIRE 

"Captain, I wants to halt a bit, 
My shoe is full of gravel/ 

Ho ! — strike up, music — for'ard march ! 

Now point your toes. Bob Rogers; 
See ! yonder are the red-coat men — 

Let fly upon 'em, sogers. 

The men laughed over this song for about the 
hundredth time. It pictures the first marching of 
some of the " awkward squad," enlisted for the con- 
tinental service, and was intended to ridicule the 
militia in general. 

"That's a never-tirin' song," observed the back- 
woodsman. 

"Almost as good as Yankee Doodle," added Josh. 

" I wonder if Josh did n't belong to that company ?" 
enquired the New-Yorker. 

"Ah, you oughter seen our company the day we 
left Longville," returned Josiah. " Sich a time among 
the gals and their fellers, and sich a fixin' o' guns and 
rusty swords, a-tryin' to look smart, was never seen 
on airth afore." 

" You were a fierce-looking set of men, no doubt," 
observed the literary man ; and then, wishing to give 
a more instructive turn to the conversation, he asked 
Josiah where the first place at which they were en- 
gaged was. 

" Newport was the first place where we were put 



AT MIDDLEBROOK. 261 

in service. It was last August. There it was that 
that 'tarnal French count backed out with his fleet," 
replied Josiah. 

" Can't you give us some account of that attack, 
and the reason of its failure ?" continued the literary 
man. • 

" Well," answered Josiah, " the reason of the thing's 
fallin' through, was nothin' more nor less than the 
backin' out of the French mountseers, as I told you 
afore. It warn't the fault of our troops, no how. 
But I '11 tell you how it was, and all abeout it. You 
see. General Sullivan commanded the troops at Pro- 
vidence, in Rhode Island ; and when it was agreed 
that there should be an attack on Newport, to be 
joined in by the army of Sullivan and the fleet of 
the Frenchmen, all the militia in the country went 
to help in it — our company among the rest ; so that 
Sullivan soon had an army of ten thousand men. 
"We were also joined by Lafayette and General Greene. 
The army marched from Providence to Tiverton, 
under the command of Greene. It was agreed be- 
tween Sullivan and the French count, — Desting, I 
think they called him, — that they should land their 
forces at Portsmouth, on the 10th, in the morning. 
The Britishers were commanded by Sir Robert Pigot, 
and were abeout six thousand strong. On the 9th, we 
received news that the enemy had left their works 
on the north end of the island on which Newport 



262 the' camp-fire 

stands, and had retreated inside of their lines, abeout 
three miles from Newport. Sullivan concluded to 
push over to the island at once, without minding the 
bargain wdth Desting. So, about eight o'clock, the 
right wing of the army, under Greene, began to cross 
from Tiverton, and the rest of us followed. I forgot 
to tell you that John Hancock was the major-general 
of the Massachusetts militia. When we landed, we 
took post on the heights at the north end of the 
island. There we encamped; but we had a hard 
time of it. The militia didn't think about such 
sogerin' as that, when we used to parade in Longville. 
It blew abeout the hardest, and rained abeout the 
hardest, on the 12tli, that ever I did see. Towards 
night, the wind and rain increased. We couldn't 
keep a tent standing, to save us. Even the generals, 
who oughter fare better than anybody else in the 
army, couldn't keep their marquees about their 
heads. I was wet to the skin, and e'enamost blowed 
away. Several of the militia were killed by bein' 
struck in the head with tent-poles, and some by the 
hail-stones, which, some du say, were as big as two- 
pound cannon-balls." 

The men held up their hands in astonishment at 
the monstrosity of the statement, and some whistled 
in a low tone. 

"I say. Josh," put in the backwoodsman, "how 
did you happen to keep clear of those hail-stones ?" 



AT MIDDLEBROOK. 263 

" Oh, it 's not for me to explain these things, I 'm 
only tellin' you the fact. But, as I was sayin', several 
of the militia were killed. A good many of the 
horses were either drowned, or killed in the same 
way as the men. The best part of our amminition 
was damaged by the water. Indeed, we were in as 
hard a condition as one could think of The enemy 
had been in better quarters than we had, and when 
the storm cleared away, on the 14th, there was a 
first-rate chance for them to whip us. But as they 
didn't try it, we spent all that day in dryin' our 
clothes and the amminition, and fixin' ourselves for a 
march. The next mornin', we set out at six o'clock, 
and took post about two miles from the enemy's lines. 
There we rested till the 20th, when we opened two 
four-gun batteries. About two o'clock that afternoon, 
we discovered the French fleet standin' for Newport, 
and, at seven o'clock. General Greene and Lafayette 
went on board of one of the French ships, to consult 
with Desting and his officers. I 've heard tell, since, 
that the count was willin' enough to go into Newport 
harbor, but his officers were a kind of cross-grained, 
and wouldn't agree to it; so, instead of helpin' us 
through with the expedition, he sailed for Boston, on 
the 22d. That was a miserable botchin' piece of 
business. Between two and three thousand of the 
volunteers left us in twenty-four hours; and they 
continued to go off, till our whole force was only a 



264 THE. CAMP-FIRE 

little more than that of the red-coats. There was 
nothin' left for us to do, then, but to retreat ; because 
we hadn't force enough to storm the works, nor 
wouldn't have had, if the volunteers had all re- 
mained ; seein' that the biggest part of 'em had never 
seen a battle. Accordin'ly, by the 26th, all the spare 
heavy artillery and baggage were sent off the island, 
and on the night of the 28th, the army began to 
move to the north end. It had been resolved, in a 
council of war, to move the army there, and then to 
fortify the ground, and hold it till we should find out 
whether there was any chance of the French fleet 
comin' back. We marched all night, and arrived on 
the ground about three o'clock in the mornin', with 
all our baggage and cetera. About seven, we were 
surprised by a brisk fire of musketry in our front, 
between our advanced troops and the enemy, who 
had pushed out after us, when they found out that 
we were retreatin'. I was with the brigade of militia 
under General Lovell ; and, without any braggin', we 
did our duty that day. Our advanced troops stood 
the fire for some time, and paid the red-coats in their 
own coin ; but they were obliged to give way before 
the numbers of the enemy. They kept up a pretty 
orderly fire as they fell back, till the}^ were reinforced; 
when they halted, and fought for awhile so obstinate, 
that they give the red-coats a check. More of our 
troops were sent to their help, and the Britishers 



AT MIDDLEBROOK. 265 

were driven back; but that was only for a little 
while. More trooj)s reinforced them, and our men 
were driven back near to the front line of the main 
army, which had been drawn up in order of battle. 
We had a redoubt on our right, which was our ad- 
vanced post. This the Britishers tried to get at three 
times ; but they were each time driven back by our 
brave boys ; the last time, they were awfully cut up. 
The artillery fired during the whole day, and the 
musketry for about six hours ; and it 's the greatest 
wonder to me that there was n't more killin' done 
than there was. After the retreat of the Britishers, 
neither of the armies could approach the field without 
bein' raked by the cannon; so we couldn't do any 
more that night. The next mornin', Sullivan got 
news that Besting, the French count, could n't come, 
as he expected, with his troops and help us ; and 
also, that Lord Howe, the English admiral, had sailed 
again. He then decided to leave Rhode Island ; and, 
mind I tell you, that was a nice job to undertake. 
The sentinels of the two armies were within about 
four hundred yards of each other, and you may judge 
what a deal of care it needed to keep 'em from gettin' 
wind of it. The way we done it was this. A number 
of tents were brought out and pitched right in sight 
of the enemy, and the whole army appeared to be 
fortifyin' the camp. At the same time, the heavy 
baggage and stores were fallin' back, and carried over 
23 



266 THE CAMP-FIRE 

the bay. At dark, the tents were struck, the light 
baggage and the troops passed down, and by twelve 
o'clock, the whole army had crossed. We slipped 
away as quietly as a mouse through a hole in the 
trap. Lafayette arrived from Boston just as the last 
part of the army was preparin' to retreat. He brought 
off the pickets that covered the retreat, without losin' 
a man, or leavin' a single article behind. It was 
altogether one of the slickest back-outs ever made 
anywhere." 

" Very nicely done, indeed," said the literary man. 

" Yes ; but though the retreat was nice enough, 
that ain't what we went there for," returned Josiah. 
" We counted sure on takin' Newport, and we got 
cheated out of it by the 'tarnal Mountseers." 

"Oh, well," said the literary man, "the Mountr 
seers, as yon call them, are good enough sometimes, 
and we ought to be thankful for their assistance in 
this war." 

" Give me the Yankee nation, in a fightin' time," 
said Josiah. " These Mountseers may be well enough 
sometimes, but their conduct on that partic'lar 'casion 
kind o' riled me." 

" Der Frenchmen is goot." observed the Conestoga 
farmer, who had been grumly listening to the con- 
versation. No doubt he had seen some of the bravery 
of Lafayette. 

" Yes," replied the literary man, " the French are 



AT MIDDLEBROOK. 267 

a brave nation. They are our friends now — the 
very time when we need friends. A braver man 
than Lafayette never lived, and I've seen a good 
many more of them who were almost as good soldiers 
as he is. But, come, it must be getting late. We 
had better fix the fire, and turn in for the night. 
We can afford to leave the French to vindicate them- 
selves from any aspersions upon their character. I 
think they '11 do it before long." 

Those of the party who were generally idle lis- 
teners to the conversations of the rest of the mess, 
gathered themselves up at this remark of the ruling 
spirit, and the whole party were soon safely stowed 
for the night, there being no undressing to occupy 
the time, where the bed consisted of a little straw 
and a blanket. 



THE CAMP-FIRE ON THE SUSQUEHANNA. 

The details of the attacks on the frontier settle- 
ments, by the tories and Indians, present us with all 
that cruelty could invent, or savages could execute. 
Burning houses, desolated fields, and slaughtered 
women and children, fill up the awful scenes pre- 
sented to us by the history of 1778 and '79 particu- 
larly. All ties of blood, friendship, or love, were 
forgotten in the pervading dissensions of the whigs 
and tories. Fathers looked upon their children only 
as belonging to eitliel' of two parties, and husbands 
cursed the wives that difiered with them in opinion. 
This was bad enough ; but it was not all. The tories 
generally took the field against the opposite party, 
and calling to their aid the ready Indians, fell upon 
the defenceless settlements of their particular neigh- 
borhood, with unrelenting cruelty, devastating all 
within their reach or power. At length, stimulated 
by the entreaties of the frontier settlers of Pennsyl- 
vania, who took side with the whigs, and also by a 
desire to revenge the horrible butchery at Wyoming, 

(268) 



CAMP-FIRE ON THE SUSQUEHANNA. 269 

it was determined to get up an expedition into the 
infested region. 

The object of this expedition was not only the 
punishment of the Indians, but the destruction of 
several settlements belonging to tories who had 
become particulaily obnoxious by former cruelties. 
The party consisted of a Pennsylvania regiment, 
covered by riflemen and rangers, and was commanded 
by Colonel William Butler. The men were obliged 
to carry six days' provision on their backs, and, thus 
loaded, to endure all the hardships incident to a 
march through an unsettled region. The party 
started on the 1st of October, 1778, from the town 
of Schoharie, and having gained the head of the 
Delaware, marched down that river for two days; 
whence they struck off to the right, and crossed 
the mountains, to get to the Susquehanna. They 
accomplished this march by enduring all that could 
be expected of men who had been accustomed to the 
wilderness, when, the riflemen and rangers excepted, 
they were unused to it. They were obliged to wade 
through rivers and creeks scarcely passable by men 
without encumbrance. After the toil of a hard 
march, they had to endure chilly nights and heavy 
rains, without the means of keeping their arms and 
ammunition dry. The detachment arrived, at last, 
on the Susquehanna, and then proved that their 
march was made to some purpose. For several miles, 
23* 



270 THE CAMP-FIRE 

on both sides of the Susquehanna, they totally burnt 
and destroyed all the Indian castles and villages, and 
the tory settlements. The inhabitants, both tories 
and Indians, had received intelligence of the expedi- 
tion, and effected their escape before the arrival of 
the party. All their winter stock was either de- 
stroyed, or captured for the use of the men, and deso- 
lation dwelt where before was life and plenty. But, 
severe as was the vengeance which the detachment 
wreaked on the aggressors and their property, it did 
not satisfy some of the men belonging to the party. 
There were some among the rangers and riflemen, 
who had felt the desolation with which the tories and 
Indians had visited the settlements, and the blood of 
their wives, and children, and friends, was still un- 
avenged, and they could not be satisfied till it was. 
This induced many of them to join in the extermi- 
nating expedition of General Sullivan, which marched 
into the Indian country in the next year. 

Having executed all that lay in their power, the 
party prepared to return. But this was a difficult 
undertaking. The continual heavy rains had caused 
a sudden rising of the creeks and the Susquehanna, 
and the detachment was running short of provisions. 
The crossing of the Susquehanna would at other 
times have been deemed impracticable ; but their 
case was a desperate one, and they attempted to pro- 
cure horses, for the purpose of mounting the men, 



ON THE SUSQUEHANNA. 271 

and fording the river in that way. A number of 
horses had been left behind by the Indians, in their 
haste to escape, and these were secured. 

It was a clear, cool, October evening, while the 
party of Colonel Butler were encamped on the western 
bank of the Susquehanna. There was no moon, but 
the stars seemed ambitiously striving to supply her 
sweet and gentle beams. The troops were stationed 
in a wood, on the gently-elevated bank, and among 
the almost deserted boughs of the trees, the curling 
smoke from a number of fires was ascending. The 
swollen stream was dashing violently along, as if 
proud of its additional strength. The evening was 
one that the party could appreciate, after the cold, 
rainy weather they had endured. A single tent was 
all they could boast of possessing, and that was re- 
served for the officers of the party. Each fire had its 
group, composed of the men belonging to the Penn- 
sylvania regiment, and the riflemen and the rangers, 
indiscriminately mixed, as the supper of the men 
was preparing upon it. At a considerable distance 
in the wood, sentinels were stationed, to guard against 
surprise. The river formed a sure defence upon the 
front. 

One of the groups, around a fire near the river, 
deserves our particular regard. It is composed of 
about a dozen men. Some of them are seated on 
small logs and stones, which they have brought near 



272 THE CAMP-FIRE 

the fire, and others on the ground. Most of them 
are dressed in the uniform that bespeaks them mem- 
bers of the Pennsylvania regiment; while two of 
them have but the common hunting-shirt and leggings 
usually worn by the rangers of the woods. All look 
wearied and travel-worn, with their brown faces and 
soiled dress. The guns of the group are leaning 
against the surrounding trees, near at hand, in case 
of an attack. One of the rangers is leaning his head 
upon one hand, looking in the fire, as if intently 
musing. The other is talking to one of the soldiers 
in uniform. The rest of the men are talking among 
themselves. 

"Jackson," says Seth, the ranger last mentioned, 
"do you think there's even a good chance of our 
getting over that river there, on horseback? For 
my part, I 'd rather try to swim it." 

"Yes, I think there is a very good chance, you 
may be sure, or I would not risk my life in making 
the attempt," replied Jackson. 

" We must get out of this place somehow," con- 
tinued Seth, without noticing the answer, "and the 
Colonel says there 's no other way." 

"Yes," said Jackson, "we must get out of this 
before our provision gives out ; and there is no other 
way than by trying to cross the river on horseback. 
The Colonel is a very prudent and a very shrewd 
man ; and I 'm sure he 11 bring us out safe, if possible." 



ON THE SUSQUEHANNA. 273 

" Then, after we cross the Susquehanna, there 's so 
many infernal creeks, and they '11 be about twice as 
high as usual," continued the ranger. " We had work 
enough to get where we are ; but that 's play to the 
going-back part of the business." 

" There 's one thing certain, Seth," said the soldier, 
" we did n't come for nothing. We 've done a great 
deal of damage since we've been here, mind I tell 
you. When the folks that lived hereabouts come 
back, to hunt for their houses and barns, they '11 be 
a leetle disappointed, I 'm thinking." 

" Poor job — poor job," said Jones, the ranger who 
was leaning on his hand, musing ; " if the thing had 
been done as I wanted it done, we might have had a 
chance to throw some of the infernal owners of the 
houses and barns into their flames. That would 
have been coming to some purpose ;" and as the 
ranger emphatically made the last remark, his teeth 
clenched, and a savage smile lit up his face, that 
seemed like the glare of a red, demoniac light upon 
a dark night. 

" Oh, you want to go as far as the savages them- 
selves," remarked Jackson. " I hate such butchery, 
whether perpetrated by the Indians or our own side. 
It ain't human, at all. I 'm satisfied with what we 've 
done already." 

" I won't be," replied Jones. " I can't be, in fact. 
I never will rest quietly, till some of them have paid 

S 



274 THE 'camp-fire 

me what they owe me ; and it 's a debt not easy paid, 
let me tell you. 

"I can judge what's been going on," said Seth. 
" You 've suffered some from the tories or Indians." 

" Yes, some," returned the moody ranger, shortly 
expressing a great deal more than his companions 
could comprehend. A short pause ensued, which the 
soldier was the first to break. 

" You appear to have suffered a great deal," said 
he, wishing to draw the ranger's sorrows from their 
concealment. 

" I have suffered a great deal from the hell-hounds," 
replied Jones. " I lived at Wyoming, and our family 
was large. You can easily guess the rest." 

" I think I can," said the soldier. " They were 
murdered at the massacre." 

" Yes," was the reply. " You talk of showing the 
tories and Indians mercy. If you had lived at 
Wyoming and felt their mercy, you never would talk 
so. All pity would be banished from your heart, and 
you 'd only wish to come across the miscreants, to cut 
them down while they cried for mercy. I was there, 
and saw it all ; and I could almost cut the throat of 
the man that speaks for them." 

" I can't say how I would act under such circum- 
stances," said Jackson, " but I hardly think it would 
be to act their part, myself" 

"If it's not too affecting to you to think about 



ON THE SUSQUEHANNA. 275 

Wyoming," observed Seth, " I should like to hear the 
story of the massacre." 

" I can tell it to you," replied the ranger. " It has 
ceased to affect me in the way you mean. I cried a 
very little time, about our family all bein' cut off 
and leavin' me alone in the world. I always had too 
much spirit to brood over anything of that kind. 
I 've never shed a tear since the day after the mas- 
sacre. My whole attention is taken up in the en- 
deavor to revenge it ; and I '11 do it, before I 'm dead, 
you may depend." 

"Let us hear the story, and then we may judge 
how far you are right," said Seth. 

" You shall," replied Jones ; " but let us get our 
share of the victuals, first." 

The salt meat was taken from the fire, where it 
had been cooking, and cut up into slices, which were 
divided among the men equally. A biscuit to each, 
was the only article that accompanied it. Our three 
friends, having received the shares they waited for, 
set about the work of demolition vigorously. 

" Now you can go on, Jones," said Seth, with his 
mouth full. 

" Yes, now we '11 hear all you know about it," said 
the soldier. 

" Well, you shall," was the reply. " You see, our 
family came to Wyoming among the earliest that 
settled there. Most of the inhabitants came from 



276 THE CAMP-FIRE 

Connecticut, because that State claimed that part of 
the country where Wyoming was situated, under 
some grant or other. Did you ever see the place ?" 

The two listeners answered negatively. 

" Well, it 's as pretty a valley as there is in any 
part of the country. It's just over here, on the 
eastern branch of the Susquehanna. The country 
around was settlin' very fast, and everything pro- 
mised well. It was situated on both sides of the 
river, and consisted of eight townships, each five 
miles square. You may judge from that how large 
it was. The fields were well cultivated, and the land 
was rich. The settlement was increasing so fast, 
that we were enabled to send a thousand men to the 
continental army. We had built four forts, to cover 
us from the Indians. But, in spite of the forts, it 
was well known that we had sent a thousand of our 
best men away from us, and couldn't protect our- 
selves as we ought, from the attacks of the Indians. 
Besides, from the commencement of the war, there 
had been a good many tories among the inhabitants, 
and they kept us all the time quarrellin'. Last year, 
some of the worst of the tories in the settlement 
joined the Indians and marched against us ; but we 
beat them back, after some hard skirmishin'. About 
that time, several of the tories left the settlement, 
and joined the Indians. You see, they had quarrelled 
with their families, and went away bent on doin' us 



ON THE SUSQUEHANNA. 277 

some damage. They knew all about our condition, 
and they made use of their knowledge. Early this 
year, a great quantity of strangers came into the 
settlement, under different excuses ; and some of 
them acted so suspicious, that they were arrested and 
examined. The evidence against several of them 
was so strong, that we all concluded that they were 
actin' with the enemy, on a scheme for destroyin' the 
settlement. Twenty of them were sent off to Con- 
necticut, to be tried for their lives, and all the rest of 
the strangers were driven out of the settlement. This 
worked the tories up to the highest pitch, and they 
threatened the people with vengeance. Our family 
lived near the river, in Wyoming. It was made up 
of my father, who was gettin' pretty old, my mother, 
and four brothers and sisters. One of these brothers 
said boldly he was one of the tories, and we often 
quarrelled about it. I was a complete whig, and 
did n't want him to talk in the way he did in our 
house. All our family sided with me, and, at last. 
Bill got so quarrelsome and violent, that we put him 
out of the house, and told him never to come back 
again until he turned whig. He said we 'd see him 
one of these days, and he would n't come as a whig, 
either." 

" Did n't that frighten the family ?" asked Seth. 

"No, they didn't think much about it, just then; 
they hated Bill too much," answered the ranger. 
24 



278 THE CAMP-FIRE 

" He went away, and I never saw him any more. 
Well, for several weeks before the massacre, small 
parties were sent to the settlement, to try to lull us 
into feelin' secure. They professed to have the 
strongest friendship for us. I think they wanted to 
concert with the tories that were in the settlement, 
and to see how things were goin' on. However, w^ 
knew the scoundrels well enough, not to believe them 
Colonel Zeb Butler commanded our force, and he 
wrote to Congress and to General Washington, asking 
them to send us some help; but his letters never 
reached Congress or Washington ; they were inter- 
cepted by the tories. A few days before the main 
attack, some small parties made attacks on the settle- 
ment, and committed some horrible murders. One 
of these parties butchered the wife and five children 
of one of their own friends, who had been sent to 
Connecticut." 

" Was it through mistake ?" enquired the soldier. 

" I do n't know," was the reply ; " but it 's ten to 
one it wasn't. They didn't think about savin' a 
wife and children, because the father was a friend to 
them. There was too many wives who had the 
courage and the sense to think different from their 
husbands. It's twenty to one, it wasn't through 
mistake. At length, on the 1st of July, the enemy 
appeared on the Susquehanna, in full force. They 
numbered about sixteen hundred men, of which 



ON THE SUSQUEHANNA. 279 

over a quarter were Indians ; the rest were tories, 
painted and dressed like Indians. The whole party 
was commanded by Colonel John Butler, a cousin of 
Colonel Zeb Butler. Most of the prominent tories 
were with him ; and I do n't think a fiercer or more 
bloodthirsty set of men ever joined together for any 
purpose. The Indians were under the command of 
Brandt, a half-breed. I do n't feel so savage at these 
Indians, because one couldn't expect anything else 
from them. It 's them infernal hounds that led them 
to butchering* their own families and friends. One 
of the small forts was betrayed into the hands of the 
enemy by its own garrison, who were nearly all 
tories. Another was taken by storm, and all that 
were in it, except the women and children, were 
butchered in the most horrible manner. This fort 
was a short distance from the village of Wyoming. 
On the 3d of July, a council of war was held, to con- 
sider whether we should march out of Fort Wilks- 
barre and attack the enemy ; and it was finally agreed 
that we should. Accordin'ly, the same day, we 
marched out, in two lines ; one under the command 
of Colonel Zeb Butler, and the other under Colonel 
Dennison. I was with Butler's line. Spies were 
sent forward, and they soon discovered two Indians, 
who were out on the same business for the other 
army. The scouts fired upon each other ; but no one 
was hurt, and they returned to the main body. Both 



280 THE CAMP-FIRE 

armies then moved forward, and joined battle near a 
thick swamp. The line commanded by Dennison 
advanced against Brandt, and our line against that 
of our commander's cousin. Their army was so far 
superior to ours, that they out-flanked us, and Brandt 
and the Indians came out of the swamp, and turned 
our left flank. This made so much confusion, that 
the Indians made sad havoc among Dennison's men. 
We bore up against the numbers of the tories for a 
considerable time. But the turning of our left flank 
was too much for us. Colonel Dennison ordered his 
troops to fall back, in order to make some evolution ; 
but the men were already confused, and they thought 
he wanted them to retreat, and they broke and fled. 
We could n't stand then — there was too few of us. 
So we followed, and the Indians pursued us. I tell 
you, men, the carnage was horrible. The Indians 
would knock the men down, and scalp them in a 
minute's time. I only got into the fort, by knocking 
down, with the butt-end of my musket, a big Indian 
that came yelling close to me." 

" How many escaped ?" asked Seth. 

" I guess, about a hundred in all," replied the 
ranger. " Colonel Butler and Colonel Dennison were 
among them. Our commander was still anxious to 
keep up the resistance to them. The fort we fled to, 
was called Fort Wilksbarre. The commander thought 
the fort on the other side of the river, where all the 



ON THE SUSQUEHANNA. 281 

old men, and the women and children, were placed, 
was the best to stand a siege. So we left a few to 
guard Fort Wilksbarre, and crossed the river, with 
four hundred men, and took post in Fort Kingston, 
as it was called. There we were closely besieged till 
next day, when Colonel Zeb Butler proposed a parley 
with his cousin, to see what terms he could arrange 
with him. His cousin agreed to it. The place ap- 
pointed for the meeting was an open field, so far from 
the fort as to be beyond protection from it. Our 
commander suspected the designs of his cousin, and 
he took with him about four hundred men, of which 
I w^as one, to guard against treachery. This was 
nearly the whole garrison. When we arrived at the 
place appointed for the meeting, nobody was waiting 
there. Far ahead of us, at the foot of a mountain, 
we saw a flag. If he had taken a moment's thought. 
Colonel Butler would have turned back. He said 
that they seemed afraid of treachery on his side ; for 
the holders of the flag fell back as we moved forward. 
On we went, till we got very near the flag, when a 
yell was heard, and we found ourselves surrounded. 
We stood firm, and delivered our fire so heavy and 
true, for three quarters of an hour, that we seemed 
to have the advantage' of them. But, just then, one 
of the men cried out, ^ The Colonel has ordered a re- 
treat !' and then the day was lost. The whole party 
fell into confusion, and the enemy broke in on all 
24* 



282 THE CAMP-FIRE 

sides ; and while some of the men begged for quarter, 
they were hewn down and scalped. Many tried to 
escape, and were cut down in the attempt. The 
slaughter was dreadful beyond anything you ever 
heard of, I know. Again I was one of the lucky 
ones. About seventy of us escaped from the hands 
of the devils, and made our way across the river. 
Some of them were cut and bruised in a good many 
places. Colonel Butler made his way to Fort Kings- 
ton, while the rest of us went to Fort Wilksbarre." 

" What an infernal set of rascals !" ejaculated Seth. 
" That Colonel John Butler ought to be roasted alive, 
as I 've heerd the Indians serve their prisoners." 

" Roasted ! that 's too easy a death for such a 
wretch !" returned the ranger. " The man who could 
so entrap his own cousin and his own people, and 

then butcher them in such a way, ought to be " 

but the speaker seemed perplexed in the invention of 
a torment sufficient for the wretch. 

" It was a horrible action," observed Jackson, " but 
I've heard of his deeds before, and I know one 
couldn't expect anything better. He don't appear 
to have a heart." 

" I '11 find it, if ever I 'm so lucky as to meet him !" 
returned the ranger, fiercely. "But all that I've 
been telling you is nothing, compared with what 's to 
come. Fort Kingston was invested by the enemy, 
and they kept up a continual fire all day ; and to put 



ON THE SUSQUEHANNA. 283 

our little band in as low spirits as possible, they sent 
into the fort, for us to look at, no less than one hun- 
dred and ninety-six bloody scalps. I almost sickened 
at the sight." 

" So would any one who had any feelin' at all," 
said Seth. 

" Well, that same night, Colonel Zeb Butler took 
his family, left the fort, and escaped down the river," 
continued the ranger. " I do n't see how he done it, 
unless through the permission of his cousin. I do n't 
want to say he acted anything like a traitor, but it 
looks much like a cowardly action.' However, he 
was about the only officer that escaped. The next 
day, that was the 5th of July, I think. Colonel Den- 
nison, who succeeded to the command, seein' that 
there was no chance for making a good defence, went 
with a flag to Colonel John Butler, to know what 
terms he would grant if we surrendered. I went out 
with him, and saw the infernal bloodhound when he 
answered, ' the hatchet !' He did n't look like a 
human bein' at all. Such a fierce, devilish smile he 
had on his face, when he made answer. We returned 
to the fort ; and then they attacked it with yells and 
and howls, like tigers wanting to get at their prey. 
We defended the fort till most of the men were killed 
or wounded, and the Colonel resolved to surrender at 
discretion. I suppose he thought there was still some 
chance of escape from bein' murdered, by giving up 



284 THE CAMP-FIRE 

the fort. I did n't, and wanted to die fightin' there, 
in the fort. I knew there was no mercy in the 
devils. He surrendered the fort, and then the hatchet 
done its work. About fifty of the women, and four 
or five men, of whom I was one, were all that es- 
caped out of that fort. There was, at the time of 
the surrender, at least two hundred women and fifty 
men, alive in it. I don't think more than sixty 
escaped. I stood before our family, along with one 
of my brothers, by the name of Morton ; and when 
I saw Bill and some other tories comin' towards us, 
I knew he was bent on doin' as the rest of them did. 
They rushed on us and cut my brother down, but I 
struck Bill across the face with my musket, and 
cleared my way to the openin' in the fort. I saw 
him fall, and I hardly think he ever got up again." 

" The whole of your family were butchered, then ?" 
enquired Seth. 

" Yes, every one fell by the hands of the blood- 
hounds. I saw the tories lay hands on them, as I 
escaped through the open gate of the fort. The old 
man was on his knees, praying, and the smallest 
children were hangin' around him, cryin'. Oh ! but 
they shall pay for it all, two or three times over ! 
All I ask is to have a fair field against them, and 
that old man's prayer will help me to cut them down 
like sheep !" The ranger's teeth and hands were 
clenched savagely, and he seemed to be thrilled al- 



ON THE SUSQUEHANNA. 285 

most 'beyond bearing, with the desire of revenge. 
His companions were evidently affected by his man- 
ner and his narrative ; though the same feelings 
could not fill their breasts to the extent they did the 
eye-witness of the horrid massacre, and one who had 
seen his relatives slaughtered. 

" I got away from the fort, and made my escape to 
the woods safely. I heard that the wretches, thinkin' 
they could n't kill their victims fast enough, put them 
in the houses and barracks, and then set fire to them. 
A few were kept for other tortures. They then 
crossed the river, to Fort Wilksbarre, and the gar- 
rison surrendered without making any conditions. 
There was about seventy continental soldiers in the 
fort, who had enlisted for the defence of the frontier, 
and these they slaughtered to a man, with all the 
horrible inventions they could think of. The women 
and children were shut up in the houses, the same as 
before, and then burnt to death in that way. I was 
safe in the woods, then, but I afterwards came across 
a man who escaped the whole of it, by hidin' in a 
small wood-shed till night ; and he told me all their 
bloody doin's after I got away. He said they stuck 
some of their prisoners full of splinters of pine, and 
set them on fire, and some they threw into the flames, 
and held them down till they were roasted to death. 
They even shot th^ cattle, and cut out the tongues 
of some of them, and let them live in torment." 



286 THE CAMP-FIRE 

" Could they be men ?" asked Jackson. 

" No, they were devils. The devil himself could 
not have acted more fiendishly/' returned Seth. " I 
think I could shoot such wretches down without 
any pity. I 'd think I was doing good to my fellow 
beings." 

" I thought you 'd change your sentiments," said 
the ranger. " For my part, I act just as I feel. I 
feel that such butchers ought not to live, though I 
could not tell why." 

" Well, I suppose they levelled all the houses, and 
wasted and destroyed all the fields, after that ; did n't 
they ?" enquired Seth. 

" Yes," was the reply ; " they destroyed everything 
but the houses of the tories. The crops were nearly 
ripe, but they were all destroyed. This friend I told 
you about, was near the place about a month ago, 
and walked over the ground in the night. Every- 
thing is in ruins, he says, and the ground where the 
most of the people were slaughtered still bears the 
red stains of their blood. The forts were burnt to 
the ground. No one would have thought the settle- 
ments in the valley ever had been so large and pros- 
perous as they were. The whole place was almost 
deserted." 

" How did you manage to travel through the woods 
such a distance as you must have gone before you 
arrived at a settlement ?" enquired the soldier. 
24 



ON THE SUSQUEHANNA. 287 

" Oh, friend, I can hardly tell you. I came across 
some women and children, wandering like myself, 
with only one man with them. I kept with this 
small party, because the women and children needed 
protection, and I wanted company. The party con- 
sisted of four women, belonging to different families, 
and some few children, who had lost their parents in 
the massacre. The young man and myself formed 
their only guard. We wandered through the woods, 
living on berries and roots, for about two weeks, be- 
fore we arrived at the first settlement at Northamp- 
ton. We picked up two or three other women on 
the way, almost worn down with hunger and tra- 
vellin'. Two of the women got sick, to make it 
worse, and then we had to wait till they were able 
to go on. My friend and myself had a hard time of 
it, I tell you. We were weak and tired, ourselves, 
yet we had to find food for the women and children, 
the best part of the time. One poor little girl, that 
had lost her father and mother in the massacre, grew 
so weak that she could n't go any further with us ; 
and, as a lucky thing, she died very soon afterwards. 
We had to leave the body in the woods, and push on 
as fast as we could, for we were all weak for want of 
something to eat, and sleeping in the damp woods. I 
was n't used to it then, as I am now, and could n't 
stand much more than the women. Well, we arrived 
at a settlement at last, and there we found a few 



288 THE CAMP-FIRE 

more of the wanderers from Wyoming. The settlers 
were all kind to us, and gave the women and children 
all the care they needed ; but I think that some of 
them did n't need attention long. The fright and the 
horror they had been made to feel, was too much, 
when it was added to the toil and hunger they en- 
dured in the wilderness." 

" I do n't suppose they did," said the soldier. It 's 
a wonder they fled at all, seein' that all that belonged 
to them had been murdered, and they were alone in 
the world." 

" Was n't there one of your relations saved ?" en- 
quired Seth. 

" Not one," was the reply. " I wanted to go back 
to the place where they were murdered, but never 
could get any of my fellow rangers to join me. The 
tories are too thick for me to go alone. I 'd like to 
see if I could find their bodies, or anything belongin 
to them, that I might keep for their sake ; and I '11 
see, before long, if I go alone." 

" I '11 go with you," said Seth. " I 'm anxious to 
see the scene of such a massacre ; and I know one, 
at least, of the rangers, that will be glad to go with 
us. If we can get together a small party, we '11 try 
what mischief we can do." 

" Will you ?" asked Jones, joyfully ; " then I '11 try 
how many I can persuade to join us, and we '11 give 
them a taste of their own game. Oh, I feel able to 



ON THE SUSQUEHANNA. 289 

meet a half a dozen of the cowardly wretches, my- 
self! You'll go, certain; will you?" 

" I will," answered Seth ; " there 's my hand on it." 

The ranger shook the proffered hand heartily. 
"Now," said he, "I'll pay my score. Come, let's 
go and see how the others like the project." 

The two arose from their seats and walked away, 
leaving Jackson to seek the company of some of the 
others. About twenty of the rangers were found 
willing to join Jones in his visit to Wyoming, and it 
was agreed that they all should accompany the party 
of Butler as far back as the nearest settlement, and 
then leave them, and, after getting provisions enough 
to last them a few weeks, set out for Wyoming. 
They proposed to cut off small parties of tories and 
Indians, and to rob and murder their families, when- 
ever opportunity offered. This should not be won- 
dered at ; for most of them had suffered from the at- 
tacks of the Indians and tories, during the previous 
year. After these measures were agreed to, the men 
retired to rest upon the bare ground, near the fires. 
The night was more favorable for repose, than any 
they had yet experienced, and they all took advan- 
tage of it. 

The next morning, the whole party crossed the 
Susquehanna, on horseback ; an exploit of great diffi- 
culty. In many places, the horses had to swim, and 
the current of the river was very rapid. They all 
25 T 



290 CAMP-FIRE ON THE SUSQUEHANNA. 

landed safely, however, and started on their march 
across the mountains, by which they escaped the 
trouble of crossing various swollen creeks. The 
rangers left them at the first settlement, according to 
agreement, and set about preparing for their own 
expedition. The rest of Butler's command returned 
to Schoharie, whence they had started, where they 
were received by the firing of thirteen rounds of 
cannon, and a feu de joie. They had been absent for 
sixteen days, and most of the time had been on short 
allowance of provisions ; but they had succeeded in 
their design, and that repaid them for their toil. 



THE CAMP-FIRE AT SPRINGFIELD. 

It was the night of the 23d of June, 1780. The 
British army, which had crossed over from New 
York into Jersey, with the object of marching to 
Morristown and capturing the stores there, had met 
a severe check at Springfield, and had retreated, pur- 
sued by the militia. Early in the afternoon, General 
Greene had been compelled to fall back, by the press 
of superior numbers, and had taken position on a 
range of hills, where the two roads, along which the 
enemy had advanced in two columns, are brought so 
near to a point, that succour could readily be given 
from one to the other. In this commodious position, 
Greene had waited, in the expectation that the enemy 
would have attempted to gain the heights. But they 
had wisely declined, and, for satisfaction, set fire to 
the village of Springfield, containing about fifty 
houses. They retreated, no doubt, because of the 
strength of General Greene's situation, and the uncer- 
tainty of the amount of his force. Greene continued 

in his strong position that night. 

(291) 



292 THE CAMP-FIRE 

The night was a clear, moonlight one. Along the 
tops of the range of hills upon which the army was 
posted, the watch-fires were burning brightly, con- 
trasting strangely with the pure, silver light of the 
moon. A short distance in front of the heights, 
might be seen the smouldering ruins of the once 
beautiful village of Springfield, desolated by the 
ruthless hand of the enemy. Upon the eminence 
farthest upon the Yauxhall road. Major Lee, with 
his dragoons and the pickets, was posted. That 
little band had that day fought bravely. They had 
maintained a pass called ^ The Little Bridge,' against 
a greatly superior force, for a considerable time ; and 
in the end, it was only forced from its position by the 
enemy fording the river, and gaining the point of a 
hill. It was a part of that legion which, afterwards, 
was so distinguished in the South, and known as 
" Lee's legion." It being certain that the enemy had 
retreated beyond Elizabethtown, the feeling of secu- 
rity from attack relaxed, in some degree, the strict 
discipline under which the men were held, and they 
were now standing and sitting about the tents in 
groups, engaged in conversation. Near a small fire, 
upon the edge of the height, a group of men were 
half-sitting, half-lying on the ground. It consisted 
of five men — two dragoons and three picket-men — 
and they were lying in a sort of semicircle, evidently 
looking at the fast-paling embers of Springfield. 



AT SPRINGFIELD. 293 

"Caldwell," said one of the picket-guard, "what 
poor spite such work as that is, anyhow ! No doubt 
these rascals imagine that they make themselves 
feared by doing such deeds." 

" Yes, I suppose that is their object,' replied Cald- 
well. "But I think the owners showed 'em they 
were a little out in their calculations. I 'm told the 
militia pursued 'em till near sunset, when they got 
into Elizabeth town." 

" Well, if they did," said Hickey, another of the 
picket-guard, " they 've made sure work of some of 
them, I know. These farmers and villagers know 
something about aiming a rifle." 

"It seems to me," said the first speaker, named 
Jones, " that this is the very course that '11 help us 
along. If they had any knowledge of how things 
work, they might know that their true policy, to in- 
jure our cause, is to treat the people of the country 
in such a way as to make them like them. They 
do n't seem to know that like breeds like." 

" If they would treat the people as they oughter," 
remarked the dragoon, named Dayton, " they really 
might put a damper on our prospects." 

" Yes, if they 'd treat the people as they ought to, 
there would be no use of fightin'," added Hickey. 

"Oh, we know that," returned Dayton; "but I 
mean now, while we're fightin'. If they'd happen 
to smooth over things with the people, by doin' 'em 
25* 



294 THE CAMP-FIRE 

favors and kindnesses, they might soon bring 'em 
under their yoke again. But burnin' their houses 
will only make 'em stronger friends of the Congress." 

" I understand what you mean," said Hickey, " but 
you did n't say that." 

^' Well, I said enough to make you understand me, 
and that's the end of talkin'," replied Dayton. 

" It strikes me," remarked the picket-guard who 
had not yet spoken, who was called Brown, "it 
strikes me, that the red-coat general went back a 
leetle dashed. I think, by the way he marched here, 
he thought he was going to do wonders." 

"Ah," said Caldwell, "that little stand of ours, at 
the bridge yonder, give him a taste of what sort of 
fighting he might expect us to do. We 're the boys' 
that can do it, too. I don't want to brag of our 
troop, but it 's just my opinion, that there 's not a 
regiment of men in the army that will dare more, or 
accomplish more, than this same troop of dragoons." 

" No ; nor there 's not a more daring or more skilful 
leader than Major Henry Lee," added Dayton. 

" Well, you can brag as much as you please," said 
Jones. " Your troop is as good as any other, I sup- 
pose, but not a whit better. Major Lee may be all 
you say, but I can mention five or six, at least, who 
are his equals, if not superiors." 

" Mention one," said Caldwell, " who you think is 
his equal, if not his superior." 



AT SPRINGFIELD. 295 

" General Wayne," replied Jones. " I suppose you 
admit it ; do n't you ?" 

" Ye — yes," said Caldwell. '* He is his equal, but 
not his superior." 

" General Morgan," continued Jones. " He is an- 
other ;— is n't he ?" 

*' Morgan is certainly a brave and skilful man," 
was the reply. "You mustn't understand me to 
wish to detract from the merits of any of these" 
officers. They are all good in their way ; but there 's 
something so dashing and so enterprising about Lee, 
that it makes me prefer him to them all." 

" I suppose the reason of that is, because you fight 
under him always. You do n't have a chance to see 
the bravery and skill of the others," said Jones. 

" That may be," replied Caldwell ; " but it 's a fact, 
nevertheless. I prefer him to all the other officers 
that are so much praised." 

" "Was you in the troop at the storming of Stony 
Point, last year ?" asked Hickey. 

" Yes, I was there, as Dayton can tell you," replied 
Caldwell. " Dayton was alongside of me." 

" To be sure, I was," said Dayton ; " and at Paulus 
Hook, too." 

" I 've heard that General Wayne's bravery and 
generalship on that night, could not be surpassed," 
observed Hickey. 

" No ; but his bravery was equalled by every other 



296 THE CAMP-FIRE 

officer that had the same chance of showing it," re- 
plied Caldwell. 

" Yes/' added Dayton, " the two officers that com- 
manded the forlorn hope were as brave as any men 
that ever walked up to a roarin' cannon's mouth." 

" They all done their duty well," continued Cald- 
well. 

"Caldwell," said Jones, "can't you give us an 
account of the affair? It wpn't take you a great 
while ; and then we '11 make Dayton tell us about 
the taking; of Paulus Hook." 

" If you can," struck in Dayton. " But let 's have 
your story, Caldwell." 

" I 've no objection to telling you all I know about 
the matter," replied Caldwell. " But you must make 
Dayton agree to tell you all about Paulus Hook, or I 
won't go on. I do n't like to do all the talking my- 
self" 

Dayton consented, after much demurring, to ease 
his comrade of the burden of telling two stories in 
succession, and Caldwell commenced. 

" I suppose it will be best to give you an idea of 
what sort of a place Stony Point is, and how it is 
approached, first. It is situated, you know, on the 
Hudson river, twenty miles or more above New York. 
The river makes a short bend there. It is a small 
peninsula ; very high and rocky. It can be attacked 
on three sides, by vessels of war, very easily ; and, 



AT SPRINGFIELD. 297 

for that reason, requires a very strong garrison to 
defend it. The only way it is approachable from the 
land, is through a morass and across a sandy beach, 
which is defended by a slight abattis. There was the 
remains of a bridge over one part of the morass, but 
it did n't help to make the passage much easier. You 
can form some faint idea, from this, what sort of a 
post we had to capture." 

" I can see the difficulties you would have to meet," 
said Jones. " The project was a very daring one." 

"Who had the credit of planning the attack?" 
asked Brown. 

" The design of capturing the post was first started 
by the commander-in-chief himself," was the reply. 
" The plan was matured by the counsels of Wayne, 
Colonel Butler, and Major Henry Lee. You see, at 
the time the notion was first started, our troop was 
stationed nearer to Stony Point than any other part 
of the army was, and Lee's knowledge of the country 
around the post was more correct and full than that 
of anybody else. We were posted at a place called 
Haverstraw, about four miles below Stony 'Point. 
About the 10th of last July, General Washington 
reconnoitred the Point, in person, and obtained a 
pretty correct draft of the works. The plan of attack 
was then agreed upon, at a conference. I think it 
was on the morning of the 15th, that our commander 
received orders to join the light infantry under Gen- 



298 THE %AMP-FIRE 

eral Wayne ; and we were ordered to move as soon 
as we could get ready. You see, Jones, all the troops 
engaged in the affair were selected for their bravery 
and activity." 

" More bragging," returned Jones. 

" No, I do n't say it to brag on our troop ; but Gen- 
eral Wayne said so in his orders before the attack." 

" I can bear with you," said Jones ; " go on with 
your story." 

" Well, we all knew the business we had to do," 
continued Caldwell, " and I can leave it to Dayton to 
say whether we were not as anxious to make the 
attempt as any of the officers were. We were to join 
General Wayne at Sandy Beach, about fourteen miles 
from Stony Point; and when we arrived there, we 
found that all the Massachusetts light infantry had 
come down from West Point, and the sixth and ninth 
Pennsylvania regiments, I think it was, were already 
there. Well, we had the plan of attack and the 
general orders read to us by the adjutant. I do n't 
suppose I can remember precisely how the orders 
run; but if I don't, you can correct me, Dayton. 
We were to move from our position at twelve o'clock, 
commencing on the right, and making a short halt at 
the creek, which we had to cross on our way. No 
man was to leave the ranks, under any pretence 
whatever, until a general halt was made." 

"And then to be attended by an officer of the 



AT SPRINGFIELD. 299 

platoon," interrupted Dayton. " I recollect that very 
well; for I left them myself, and Corporal Bunn 
went with me." 

"Yes, I recollect," was the reply. "Our troop, 
and some infantry that Wayne had put under Major 
Lee's command, had n't anything of much account to 
do. We were, of course, dismounted, and were to 
act as a reserve, and follow in the rear of the two 
columns. I read the plan of the attack, soon after 
the capture, and learned more about it than I could 
from hearing the adjutant describe it. The right 
column was formed of Colonel Febinger's regiment, 
Colonel Meigs' and Major Hull's Massachusetts in- 
fantry. This column was to be commanded by Gen- 
eral Wayne himself. The left column was led by 
Colonel Butler, with Major Murfree in his rear. 
Then there was to be a sort of feint made in the 
centre, to draw the attention of the garrison away 
from the real points of attack. Every one of us, 
officers and men, was ordered to fix a piece of white 
paper in a part of his hat or cap where it could be 
seen, to distinguish him from the enemy. When the 
word was given to march. Colonel Fleury was to take 
charge of one hundred and fifty determined and 
picked men." 

" Not your troop," said Jones, harping on the same 
tune, of Caldwell's bragging. 

" No, not our troop ; but we could have done it as 



300 THE CAMP-FIRE 

well as they did, I guess," replied Caldwell. " But, 
as I said, Colonel Fleurj was to take charge of one 
hundred and fifty determined and picked men. These 
men were to have their muskets unloaded, and to 
place their whole dependence on the bayonet. They 
were to move about twenty paces in front of the right 
column, and to enter the sallyport marked. Colonel 
Fleury was to detach an officer and twenty men, a 
little in front, to remove the abattis and secure the 
gentries. When the works were forced, and not be- 
fore, the troops were to give the watchword, and 
drive the garrison from their works and guns. Col- 
onel Butler's column was to move by another route 
through the morass, preceded by one hundred picked 
men, with fixed bayonets. This hundred men were 
to detach an officer and twenty men a little in front, 
to remove the obstructions, in the same way as the 
other party. As soon as they could gain the works, 
they were to give the watchword, so as to prevent 
mistake. In the advance, the strictest silence was to 
be kept by all. The orders concluded with an address 
to the men, offering a reward of five hundred dollars 
to the first man who would enter the works, and a 
promotion besides. The second, third, fourth, and 
fifth, were also to receive a reward." 

" That, no doubt, helped considerable to make the 
troops do their best," observed Hickey. 

"Yes, I suppose it helped a little; but the men 



AT SPRINGFIELD. 301 

thought they were honored anyhow, by having been 
picked out for the service ; and besides, General 
Wayne gave orders to shoot the first man that at- 
tempted to skulk in the face of danger. Well, every- 
thing being arranged, we moved off about twelve 
o'clock, on the 15th. The roads were very narrow 
and rough, and having to pass over high hills, and 
through defiles and deep morasses, we had to move 
in single file for the best part of the way. Besides, 
the day was one of the hottest I ever felt. It 's a 
singular thing, that the toil of the march didn't 
dampen the spirits of the men ; but it shows what 
sort of spirit animated them." 

" I felt it a little," said Dayton. " When we got 
to the bottom of that hill where we halted, I did n't 
feel like going much further that day." 

"Well, you didn't go much further that day," 
replied Caldwell. "It was just dark when we got 
there. You see, Jones, at the foot of that hill, which 
was about a mile and a half from the works of the 
enemy, we were to divide our force into two columns. 
There we stopped and rested, while General Wayne 
and some of his officers went forward to look at the 
works. I think it was about half after eleven o'clock 
when we moved forward, according to the order I told 
you we were to move in. The vfin of the left was 
commanded by Major Walter Stewart, and the party 
of twenty, who were to remove obstructions, was 
26 



302 THE CAMP-FIRE 

under Captain Lawson. The other forlorn hope was 
commanded by Lieutenant Gibbons, of one of the 
Pennsylvania regiments. We found the morass over- 
flowed with water, and then we had a march such as 
I do n't want to perform again. We sunk in the mud 
and water almost waist-deep, sometimes, and it was 
pretty dark at the time. Everything was done as 
quietly as possible, according to orders ; and the 
plashing of the water and the whispers of the officers 
was all that you could hear. It seemed like marching 
up to meet death ; for it was expected that we 'd lose 
about every third man. The first noise we heard 
was about twelve o'clock, when we had come to a 
halt. We were in the rear of both columns, but 
could see almost everything that was going on ahead 
of us. The removing of the abattis and securing the 
sentinels occupied some time, and then the cannon 
and the musketry blazed and roared all at once, as if 
a sudden burst of thunder had broke upon us. By 
the light, we could see the troops of both columns 
pushing up the rocks and into the sallyport as if 
there was no cannon firing." 

" How they did walk up to the works !" ejaculated 
Dayton. '' I thought they might fall back, when so 
many of the forlorn hope were shot down ; but on 
they went." 

" Yes ; and amid all that firing, you could see them 
rushing to get into the works. I saw General Wayne 



AT SPRINGFIELD. 303 

fall while at .the head of the right column, and I 
thought he was shot dead ; but then two of his aids 
carried him on into the fort. I heard since, that he 
said he wanted to die in the fort. We followed on 
then, as soon as we saw the troops ahead of us getting 
into the fort, and then you should have heard the 
watchword, as the men shouted at the top of their 
voices. I saw some of the men fall back off the 
rocks, as the column of Butler moved on to the at- 
tack. Then, by the bright flashing of the musketry, 
I saw the proud British flag fall. We got to the gate 
of the sallyport just as the garrison surrendered, and 
then we give three of the loudest cheers I ever heard. 
Colonel Fleury had struck the British flag with his 
own hand, just as the two columns met in the centre 
of the fort." 

" How long do you think the fight lasted ?" asked 
Jones. 

" Not more than fifteen minutes," was Caldwell's 
reply. 

" Only fifteen minutes !" ejaculated Jones. " Why, 
did n't the garrison number more than your force ?" 

" No ; we had the superiority in numbers," replied 
Caldwell. " They had a little over six hundred men, 
however ; and such a force ought to hold a post like 
that against three thousand assailants. I 'm sure we 
could have done it." 

" How many did they lose ? I suppose you gave 



304 THE 'camp-fire 

them a little taste of Paoli mercy;- didn't you?" 
enquired Jones. 

"No; we didn't do any such thing," returned 
Caldwell. "We leave that to the savages in red 
coats. We call ourselves Christians, and we act like 
civilized men. They only had sixty-three killed and 
thirty-seven wounded; four hundred and . forty -four 
were marched towards Lancaster, as prisoners, in- 
cluding their commander, Colonel Johnston. A few 
of them got off in boats, but they ran a good chance 
of being taken. I fired at one of the boats ; but I 
do n't know whether I done any execution or not." 

" How many did our army lose altogether ?" was 
the next enquiry. 

" I believe there was about fifteen killed and eighty 
wounded ; not any more, I know," returned Caldwell. 
" Is n't that about it, Dayton ?" 

" Ye — s," drawled out Dayton, " I guess there was 
about eighty wounded." Dayton was evidently get- 
ting sleepy. He was not one of the most active 
spirits in the world, and the day's marching and 
fighting had had a very wearying effect on him. 

" Wayne was only slightly wounded ; was n't he ?" 
asked Brown. 

" Yes ; a musket-ball struck him in the head, but 
did n't do much more than graze the skin, and stun 
him for a while," was the answer. 

" The more I hear and see of Wayne, the more I 



AT SPRINGFIELD. 305 

see in him to admire," observed Jones. " I 'd like to 
serve under him." 

" Why, ain't you satisfied with your present gen- 
eral ?" enquired Hickey. " Do you prefer serving 
under General Wayne, to serving under General 
Greene ?" 

" Yes," replied Jones ; " but it 's not because I 
think he 's a better general, but because he fights in 
a way more to my taste. General Greene is a man 
that will gain his object in the end, even if he suffers 
defeat in action ; pretty much the same as Washing- 
ton. He may be a wiser man than Wayne. Indeed, 
I think he is. But I like such fighting as Wayne 
gives the enemy. He goes into action with the de- 
termination to conquer, or to fall in the attempt." 

"Yes, tliat's all very well for them as likes it," 
returned Hickey. " But, in my opinion, it 's a good 
deal more sensible to retreat, when you find there 's 
no chance of conquerin'. It saves life, and them as 
lives can pay the enemy when there 's a better 
chance. Hurrah for Greene ! I say." 

" What do you go into battle for, if not to win ?" 
asked Jones. 

" Generals hazard a battle very often, when there 's 
no chance of winning," observed Caldwell. " Some- 
times it is done merely to give a superior force a 
check." 

Jones found the arguments too many for him, but 
26* u 



306 THE CAMP-FIRE 

still persisted in opposing his blank denial, although 
satisfied that what they said was true. 

" Men ought n't to go into a fight without resolving 
to whip the foe, or be whipped. I hate this way of 
backing out, when you see the enemy has a little 
advantage," continued Jones. 

" Who got the five-hundred-dollar reward at Stony 
Point ?" asked Brown, wishing to put an end to the 
discussion. 

" Ah, that point was n't settled," replied Caldwell. 
" You know both columns got into the fort about the 
same time. Of course, it was easy to tell who was 
at the head of each column, but not so easy to say 
which was in the fort first. I never heard who got 
the money." 

" The capture of the post was hardly worth the 
men it cost," said Jones. " You had to give it up 
almost as soon as you took it." 

" We did n't keep it a great while, that 's true," 
returned Caldwell, " but then you must remember 
what a quantity of stores we captured, and how 
many prisoners were taken." 

" How much ammunition and stores did you find ?" 
enquired Jones. 

" Why, fifteen cannon and mortars were captured, 
with ammunition enough to last our troop and some 
of the other regiments for two months," replied Cald- 
well. " Then there was a great variety of military 



AT SPRINGFIELD. 307 

articles that we wanted, and some baggage. The 
baggage, I think, was burnt when we destroyed the 
works, two or three days after the capture. Was n't 
it, Dayton?" 

As Caldwell made this appeal and waited in vain 
for an answer, he looked in the direction of the place 
where Dayton had been sitting, and discovered that 
individual stretched at full length on the grass, 
having forgot his cares and toils in slumber. 

" Well, I '11 be hanged if that is n't a sleepy con- 
cern," remarked Hickey. " He was going to tell us 
about the capture of Paulus Hook, so fast." 

"1 knew he wouldn't," said Caldwell. "You'll 
get no story out of him to-uight." 

" Come, Dayton," said Hickey, giving the slum- 
bering one a kick, " this is no place for you to go to 
sleep. Get up and go into your tent." 

But it required sundry kicks to awaken Dayton 
from his leaden state -, and when he did yawningly 
arouse himself, he wanted to know what was the 
matter. 

" Matter !" exclaimed Caldwell, " why, the British 
are upon us. Up, man !" 

Dayton sprang to his feet as lightly and as quickly 
as if he had been watching for the enemy. " Where 's 
the horses ?" enquired he. 

"Ha, ha!" laughed Jones j "I believe he would 
fight." 



308 THE CAMP-FIRE'AT SPRINGFIELD. 

" Come, boy," said Caldwell, " we '11 go inside. 
There's no red-coats about, to disturb you. We'll 
have that account of Paulus Hook some other time, 
Jones." 

"Yes, we'll get it out of him, certain," replied 
Jones. "Good night, Caldwell; I must go further 
round, to my post on the height beyond here." 

The dragoons entered their tent, to seek repose 
for the night, and Jones proceeded to his post as 
sentinel. The other two picket-guards, Brown and 
Hickey, stayed to fix the fire ; and then Brown bade 
Hickey good night, and repaired to his post on the 
other side of the height. The moon went down 
early, making the light of the watch-fires the more 
necessary ; and Hickey paced up and down in front 
of the tent of the dragoons, occasionally stopping and 
gazing at the ruins of the village, from which a scarce 
distinguishable smoke was still rising. " They'll rue 
this, certain. Such dealings will have their reward," 
said he, aloud; and then went on with his lonely, 
measured walk ; no doubt thinking upon the heart- 
lessness of the men who would wantonly set fire to 
the homes of so many humble, peaceable people. 



THE CAMP-FIRE AT MORRISTOWN. 

The situation of the encampment at Morristown 
was well chosen. The surrounding country afforded 
natural barriers to the approach of an enemy, and 
being very fertile, furnished ample supplies in the 
matter of provisions. The portion of the American 
army encamped at this place, was the Pennsylvania 
line, under the command of General Wayne. The 
encampment consisted of rude huts ; which, having 
been constructed in great haste, to escape the seve- 
rity of the winter of 1777, were very inconvenient 
and uncomfortable. The troops entered into winter 
quarters at this place, in the latter part of November. 
Although the neighboring country produced an abun- 
dance of supplies of every kind, the troops were very 
ill provided for. They nearly all had some portion 
of their pay in arrears ; and whatever was paid was 
in a depreciated currency. Their clothing was of 
the scantiest character, and their protection from the 
severity of the weather was slight. These circum- 
stances operated so strongly, some time afterwards, 

(309) 



310 THE CAMP-FIRE 

as to produce a very serious mutiny ; and, at the time 
to which we are about to refer, they were the cause 
of a great deal of discontent. 

The night was very dark. Scarcely an object 
could be distinguished, though within a foot of a 
person. The keen breath of December pierced 
through the many openings in the huts of the en- 
campment at Morristown, and kept their occupants 
huddled as close as ^ssible to their well-heaped fires. 
Occasionally, the door of one of the huts would open, 
as some of the occupants went to take their turn as 
sentinels in the advanced guard-houses ; and then the 
light of their pine torches would glare redly and fitr 
fully on the dark scene around, making the blackness 
of the sky more visible, and increasing sensibly the 
dreary and uncomfortable appearance of everything. 
Then, as the men proceeded to their posts, all would 
subside again into darkness and silence. Let us 
enter one of these huts, and see how the men are 
whiling away the dreary time. The one nearest to 
the outpost of the sentinels will serve us. There are 
ten men sitting around the fire, which is built in the 
middle of the hut, on the ground — that forming a 
great part of the floor of the structure. What boards 
there were in the hut, were used for sitting and 
sleeping on. A large number of the Pennsylvania 
line were natives of Ireland ; and it needed but a 
single glance at the faces of the ten men gathered 



AT MORRISTOWN. 311 

aroiind that fire, to give assurance that the majority 
of them were from the " gim of the ocean," The 
features could not be mistaken. The broad face ; the 
short, end-up nose ; the light and red hair ; blue eyes 
and ruddy cheeks ; labelled them, " from Ireland." 
Only three out of the ten could be distinguished, by 
their long faces and lantern-jfiws, as natives of the 
land for which they were fighting. The clothing of 
the grou|) was without uniformity, and might be 
termed, ragged. 

" Now, Barney," said one of these sons of Erin, 
" ye spalpeen, ye know ye can sing. I niver knew 
an Irishman that could n't do that same." 

" I know I can, mon. Bad luck to me if I did n't. 
But, I tell yez, I 've got a cowld, and that stops my 
throat up." 

" Come, Barney," said one of the Pennsylvanians, 
"don't take so much coaxin'. An Irishman ought 
to have impudence enough to attempt anything, 
whether he can do it or not." 

" Go on, go on, mon," added another of the Hiber- 
nians ; " it '11 kape the blood stirrin', perhaps." 

" Och, what '11 I sing for yez, ye blatherin' divils ?" 
said Barney. " I do n't know inythin' but the rale 
Irish songs." 

" That 's what I want to hear," replied one of the 
Pennsylvanians. " I can sing some of our songs my- 
self. Give us somethino; Irish." 



312 THE CAMP-FIRE 

"Yes, yes; something Irish," struck in two or 
three of the Hibernians. 

" "Well, I '11 sing yez a song that I know '11 warm 
some of your hearts, whither your outside 's cowld or 
not. It 's called ' The Irish Emigrant.' " And Bar- 
ney sang, in the sweet tenor voice so commonly found 
among the Irish people, the song that follows. 

Farewell to my country, a lasting farewell ! 

Sweet scenes of my childhood, forever adieu ! 
Now hid from my sight is the flowery deU, 

And now the dear cabin recedes from my view ; 

Thy murmuring streams no more breathe on mine ear; 

Thy wild-waving woods, too, are lost to my sight : 
Sweet gem of the world, I drop the sad tear. 

And farewell to Erin, dear land of delight. 

Sweet days that are past, how ye come o'er my soul ! 

Ye chill my warm blood, as the sad scenes I trace : 
Though Time shakes his sand, and the wide waters roll, 

Nor distance, nor seasons, those scenes shall efface ; 

Brave, brave were thy sons, unshaken by fear ; 

And blooming thy maidens to my ravish'd sight. 
Sweet gem of the world ! I drop the sad. tear 

To Erin, dear Erin ! the land of delight. 

The tempest arose, and the ravager came ; 

Thy streams, stain'd with blood, reveal'd the sad tale ! 
Thy wild-waving woodlands were shrouded with flame, 

And the hell-hounds of war descended the vale ; 



AT MORRISTOWN. 313 

! my mother, my sister, my Kathleen so dear ! 

Can I think without madness on that horrid night. 
To your shades, ye beloved ones. I drop the sad tear, 

And to Erin, dear Erin ! the land of delight. 

The song was sung in a very feeling manner, and 
as Barney drew near the close of it, the faces of the 
Irishmen might be seen to wear a sadder expression, 
and as it was finished, in a low, sweet tone, Barney 
put his ragged sleeve up to his eye, as if to brush 
away a tear. No doubt, the song called to mind 
memories of the land they had left — of a mother, or 
sister ; or, dearer ones still, a wife and children, that 
poverty had compelled them to leave behind, when 
they sought a happier shore. 

" That song took away all the cowld feelin' I had," 
observed one of the men, named Larry. 

" Och," said Barney, " I could n't sing it again, if I 
was to be kilt for it." 

" It 's a very pretty song," said one of the Pennsyl- 
vanians, upon whom the song had not operated so 
powerfully, " but I '11 be switched if it took away the 
' cowld feelin', as you call it, from me. My back is 
freezing, while my front is warm." 

" I won't stand such livin' as this much longer, I 
tell you now. I do n't believe that we 're bound to 
stay here any longer, anyhow,"' said another of the 
Americans. 

" You 're not bound to stay, in my opinion, Ben ; 
27 



314 THE CAMP-FIRE 

but you ought to stay, you know," replied the third 
Pennsylvanian. " I sujSer all hardships, the same as 
you do, but I do n't complain so much. I think the 
government ought to pay us better, and provide better 
quarters for us; but because they don't, I'm not 
going to turn deserter, or Arnold either." 

"And who would turn Arnold?" asked the com- 

' plaining one, indignantly. " Must a man turn traitor, 

because he won't put up with getting such pay and 

livin' as we do, after fightin' the battles of his country 

for three years ?" 

" Is it an Arnold ye talk about turnin' ?" put in 
one of the Irishmen ; " bad luck to the man that 
turns traither." 

"AVell, men," said the Pennsylvanian who had 
replied to Ben's complaint, and whose name was 
Matthew, " have you heard the particulars of that 
foul treachery of Arnold's ? If you have n't, I can 
tell you all about it." 

"I've heard enough of it to convince me that 
Arnold has acted as basely as a traitor could act," 
replied Ben. 

" Well, I know nothin' about it, more 'u I 've heard 
from the men," said Barney. " Tell us all about it, 
Mat, a^ 1 if Ben don't want to hear it, let him sit 
quietly." 

" Yis, yis," added another of the Irishmen, " go on 
wid the story, and let Ben go to the divil." 



AT MORRISTOWN. 315 

The call being j)rettj generally joined in by the 
men, Matthew, who was anxious to lay bare to his 
comrades the full baseness of the conduct of Arnold, 
commenced his narrative. 

" You see, men, I 've been very inquisitive in this 
matter. I generally try to get a full understanding 
of an affair, in all its particulars, before I give my 
opinion. In the first place, the way I first became 
acquainted with the matter was through one of the 
militia-men that stopped Major Andre. You know 
it was while the main army was encamped at Orange- 
town, or Tappan, as it is sometimes called, that we 
first heard of the treason, by the adjutant of the 
regiment reading the paper issued by General Greene. 
From that time, I made inquiries, and learned who 
the militia-men were that had overhauled Andre. 
One of them, I knew ; his name was Williams. From 
him, I learned all the particulars of the capture of 
Andre, and the rest I picked up from the conversation 
of the captain and sergeant of our company." 

" Never mind the authority ; go on with the story. 
I 'm satisfied of its truth, if you tell it," said Ben. 

•' Well, I thought I 'd let you know where I built 
my story," answered Matthew. " The post that was 
to be sacrificed by the treachery of Arnold, was West 
Point, on the Hudson River, about sixty miles above 
New York. Its position is such, that General Wash- 
ington considers it the most important post in the 



316 THE CAMP-FIRE 

United States. It is indeed a strong post. Have 
any of you ever seen it ?" 

None of the party had got that far north. Two 
regiments of the Pennsylvania line had been des- 
patched to West Point, soon after the discovery of 
Arnold's treachery ; but the one they were enlisted 
in was not with them. Accordingly, they all ex- 
pressed their ignorance of its character. 

" Well," continued Matthew, " it is a very strongly 
fortified place. In fact, it is called the Gibraltar of 
America. It is situated at a bend of the river, where 
the rocks rise in ridges, one above another. The 
summit is very high, and is covered with a range of 
redoubts and batteries, planned by the most skilful 
engineers. The highest and strongest fort is built on 
a natural platform of rocks, very steep, and almost 
inaccessible on every side. This is called ' Fort Put- 
nam,' after old General Putnam, who planned it. It 
overlooks the whole plains below, and, they say, you 
can see thirty miles around from it. Then, to make 
the place still stronger, a very heavy chain is thrown 
across the river, at the short bend, and fixed to large 
blocks on each shore. The links of the chain are 
actually about a foot wide and a foot and a half long. 
It is buoyed up by large logs, pointed at each end, to 
make less opposition to the current of the river. 
This chain is commanded by the fire of batteries on 
each side of the river. You may judge, from this 



AT MORRISTOWN. 317 

short description, of tlie strength of the position. 
They calculate that it could bid defiance to twenty 
thousand men, if it was properly garrisoned. And 
then, when you consider that it commands the whole 
country from New York to Canada, and keeps open 
the communication between the eastern and southern 
States, you can judge of the amount of damage Ar- 
nold's surrender of it would have done to the cause 
we were fighting for. Well, in the early part of last 
August, Arnold obtained the command of West 
Point, after considerable solicitation. The fact of 
his asking the command of that post, when there was 
a prospect of an attack being made on New York, by 
Washington, seemed to the commander-in-chief very 
strange. He had intended that Arnold should com- 
mand the left wing of the army, as that was the post 
of honor ; but Arnold said that his wounded leg pre- 
vented him from keeping on horseback for any length 
of time, and, in fact, unfitted him for active service. 
He obtained . his request, as I said before, and went 
immediately to the Highlands, and established his 
head-quarters at Robinson's house, two or three miles 
below West Point, on the east side of the river. 
West Point is, of course, on the west side. I might 
as well tell you here, that Arnold was in correspond- 
ence with Sir Henry Clinton, through Major Andre, 
all the time he was asking for the command of West 
Point, and for about a year previous." 
27* 



318 the'camp-fire 

" For a year previous to his treachery in regard to 
West Point?" asked Ben. 

" Yes, that 's certain," was the reply. " How much 
longer it had been going on, we do n't know. General 
Arnold took command of West Point, and then he 
thought it was a proper time to bring matters to an 
end. So he wrote to Clinton, and offered to surrender 
the post he commanded into his hands, with all the 
troops and stores in it ; but requested him to send an 
officer, or some other person, who had his particular 
confidence, to meet him, that is, Arnold, at some con- 
venient time and place. This, the British commander 
agreed to do, and Major Andre, the adjutant-general 
of the British, was selected for that service. It ap- 
pears that Arnold wanted to make quite certain of 
the reward he was to receive for his treachery, before 
he advanced too far. You know, I suppose, that 
about this time a detachment of cavalry was stationed 
at the outposts, on the west side of the Hudson river. 
A part of the detachment, under Colonel Sheldon, 
was at Salem. The rest, under Lieutenant-Colonel 
Jameson and Major Tallmadge, was at North-Castle. 
Well, Arnold gave notice to Sheldon, that he expected 
a person from New York, whom he wanted to meet 
at Sheldon's quarters; and he hoped, through the 
agency of that person, to open a chance for procuring 
intelligence. In other words — for I do n't suppose 
some of you Irishmen understand me — he wanted 



AT MORRISTOTV^N. 319 

Sheldon to believe that the person he was going to 
meet would be a valuable spy." 

"A spy is it ye mane?" enquired Barney. "Yis, 
I untherstand ye." 

" Well," continued Matthew, " he requested Colonel 
Sheldon, if such a person should arrive, to show him 
proper attention, and send information of the same 
to head-quarters. A letter was sent to Andre, telling 
him of this arrangement, and that if he could con- 
trive to make his way to the American outposts 
above White Plains, he would be under the protection 
of Colonel Sheldon afterwards, and would meet with 
no obstacles. From some unknown cause. Major 
Andre did not choose to pursue this course, but sent 
a letter to Colonel Sheldon, signed ' John Anderson,' 
stating that he would meet Mr. Gustavus at Dobb's 
Ferry, on the next Monday, (which, if I recollect 
right, was the 11th of September,) at twelve o'clock. 
Now, the letter seemed a sort of enigma to Colonel 
Sheldon, as he afterwards said; but he sent it to 
Arnold, requesting him to either go himself to Dobb's 
Ferry, or send a trustworthy messenger. Arnold 
sent a reply to Sheldon, explaining, as he said, all 
the mystery of the letter from Andre. He said that 
Gustavus was a name he had assumed, to prevent 
discovery, if the letter should fall into the enemy's 
hands; and further, that he would himself go to 
Dobb's Ferrv. He contrived these circumstances to 



320 THE CAMP-FIRE 

blind those who might become acquainted with the 
transaction, by giving it the color of a sort of public 
business. Well, Arnold left his head-quarters on the 
afternoon of the 10th, went down the river in his 
barge, to King's Ferry, and passed the night at the 
house of a man by the name of Smith, — Joshua 
Smith, — about two miles and a half below King's 
Ferry, near the Haverstraw road. The next morn- 
ing, early, he proceeded to Dobb's Ferry. You know 
that 's not very far from Tappan, where we were en- 
camped. Major Andre had been on the spot before 
Arnold arrived ; he was accompanied by a British 
colonel. But there 's one thing I came near forgetting. 
When Arnold was nearing Dobb's Ferry, he was fired 
upon by the British gun-boats, and so closely pursued 
that his life was in danger ; and once he came near 
being taken prisoner. He landed safely, however, 
and proceeded to the Ferry, where he remained till 
night ; but Andre and his companion had left, and in 
this way an interview was prevented for the time, at 
least. Arnold wrote a letter to Washington, while 
at the Ferry, to give some show of reason for his 
passage down the river. This was necessary, to pre- 
vent suspicion. He had come down the river in a 
very public manner, and it could n't fail to be known. 
He said he had come down the river to have a beacon 
fixed on a hill about five miles below King's Ferry, 
which would be useful to alarm the country ; and to 



.^j^ 



AT MORRISTOWN. 321 

establish signals, to be observed in case the enemy 
ascended the river. These reasons were satisfactory, 
as they seemed proofs of his vigilance. Put on a 
little more of that wood, will you, Barney ? The 
fire's getting down, and I'm getting colder." The 
request was complied with, and all seemed to feel 
the additional comfort. Matthew continued his nar- 
rative. 

"Arnold was thus foiled in the attempt to bring 
his terms with the British to a settlement. He left 
Dobb's Ferry a little after sunset, went up the river 
in the night, and reached his quarters before morning. 
Another appointment for an interview was now to be 
made, and the time and place fixed on by the two 
parties. I think Arnold must have felt very uneasy 
all this time. I should n't suppose he could have had 
a moment's rest. He must have been in constant 
fear of detection. To bring about the second meet- 
ing, greater caution was necessary than before. Gen- 
eral Washington intended to cross the river at King's 
Ferry, in a few days, on his way to Hartford, to meet 
Eochambeau, the French commander; and it was 
necessary to arrange matters so that there would be, 
at the time of his crossing, no cause for suspicion. 
Arnold knew this, as it appears, and took his mea- 
sures accordingly. Two days after his return from 
Dobb's Ferry, he sent a letter to Andre, telling him 
that, if he would be at the landing on the east side 

v 



322 THE CAMP-FIRE 

of Dobb's Ferry, on the evening of the 20th, a person 
would be there in whom he might place confidence, 
and who would conduct him to a place of safety, 
where Arnold would meet him. This letter arrived 
at New York too late to be of any use. Sir Henry 
Clinton was anxious to press the matter forward with 
all the haste he could ; and he sent Colonel Robinson, 
an American tory, whose lands had been confiscated 
by the government, up the river, on board the sloop- 
of-war Vulture, with orders to proceed as high up as 
Teller's Point. You see, this Colonel Robinson owned 
the house that Arnold lived in for a head-quarters, 
and he seemed to be doing nothing more than what 
was natural, when he entered into correspondence 
with the American general about his property. Rob- 
inson wrote two letters ; one to General Putnam, as 
if he did n't know that Putnam had left the High- 
lands, requesting a conference with him on some 
private business. The other he enclosed in the one 
sent to Putnam, directed to Arnold. These letters 
were sent by a flag to the officer commanding at Ver- 
planck's Point, the Vulture being within sight of that 
post, and only six or seven miles below. It hap- 
pened that Washington commenced his journey to 
Hartford on the very day the letters were sent, and 
crossed the Hudson, at King's Ferry, but a few hours 
after the flag-boat from the Vulture had proceeded to 
Verplanck's Point. Arnold came down the river in 



AT MORRISTOWN. 323 

his barge, to meet Washington, the same afternoon, 
as a mark of respect to the commander-in-chiefj and, 
no doubt, as a precaution on his own part. He had 
received Robinson's letter just before he left home, 
and had mentioned the nature of its contents to Col- 
onel Lamb and some other persons that were with 
him at the time of its reception. Lamb was sur- 
prised that Robinson should open such a correspond- 
ence, and told Arnold that the civil authorities only, 
could act on such a subject. Washington and his 
officers crossed the river in Arnold's barge ; and 
several things occurred during the crossing, that 
were scarcely noticed at the time, but which after- 
wards were recalled to mind by the officers. The 
Yulture was in full view; and while Washington 
was looking at her, through his glass, and speaking 
in a low tone to some of his officers, Arnold exhibited 
a great deal of uneasiness and emotion. Another 
incident made a stronger impression. There was a 
French squadron expected daily to make its appear- 
ance on the coast, under the Count de Guichen, I 
think it was. Some of the officers were speaking of 
this, when Lafayette said, in a sort of jesting way, 
' General Arnold, you have a correspondence with 
the enemy ; you must ascertain, as soon as possible, 
what has become of Guichen.' There was nothing 
more meant by this, than an allusion to the freedom 
of intercourse between West Point and New York, 



324 THE CAMP-FIRE 

and the frequent exchange of newspapers ; but '■ sus- 
picion always haunts the guilty mind,' you know; 
and Arnold, I suppose, thought, for a moment, that 
his plot was discovered ; for he asked Lafayette what 
he meant, and seemed confused. He recovered his 
self-control, however, and the boat came to the shore. 
This was an the 18th of September. Arnold went 
with Washington to Peekskill, and there passed the 
night. The next morning, Washington and his suite 
set out for Hartford, and Arnold returned to West 
Point." 

" Well," enquired Ben, " had Washington actually 
any knowledge of the correspondence of Clinton and 
Arnold?" 

" No," answered Matthew. " He might have had 
suspicions of Arnold's fidelity to our cause, but he 
knew nothing of the actual state of affairs. Arnold 
showed Robinson's letter to him, in order to give him 
an idea that he was open and frank in his dealings ; 
but Washington advised him to drop the correspond- 
ence, as it might create suspicions in the minds of 
some people. I told you, I believe, — or, if I did n't, 
I forgot it, — that Robinson's letter to Arnold was 
written in such a manner, that it would convey to 
Arnold the information desired, and yet, if shown to 
anybody else, would pass for a mere business letter. 
After hearing Washington's decision, Arnold gave up 
the idea of having a meeting with Robinson in the 



AT MORRISTOWN. 325 

way proposed in the letter. He wrote an answer to 
Robinson, and despatched it openly, in a flag-boat, to 
the Vulture. Whatever this letter contained, it was 
sent to Sir Henry Clinton, and Andre started from 
New York, and arrived on board of the Vulture on 
the evening of the 20th of September. It afterwards 
appeared, that this was the night Arnold had ap- 
pointed for a meeting with Andre. He had resolved 
that Andre should meet him on the land ; but Andre 
w^anted him to come on board of the Vulture. You 
see, he had little confidence in a man's word who was 
about to betray his country. Arnold had arranged 
matters so, that Joshua Smith's house was to be the 
place of meeting, and that Smith was to go in a flag- 
boat, at night, to the Vulture, and bring off" the 
person who would be waiting there. Well, Andre 
remained on board of the Vulture all night, expecting 
to meet Arnold there ; but no person appearing, he 
began to grow suspicious. He stayed on board all 
the next day, however, on pretence of sickness. 
After a great deal of trouble, he procured two boat- 
men, by the name of Colquhoun ; they were brothers. 
He had everything arranged so that there would be 
no stoppage, and about eleven o'clock on the next 
night after Andre's arrival, the boat, with Smith and 
the two brothers in it, passed quietly down the river 
till they were near the Vulture, when they were 
hailed and ordered to come alongside. After some 
28 



326 THE CAMP-FIRE 

little trouble with the man who had hailed them, 
Smith got on board. In a short time after, Smith 
got into the boat again, accompanied by Andre, and 
the boat proceeded to the foot of a mountain called 
Long Clove, where the occupants landed. This Long 
Clove is about six miles below Stony Point. Arnold 
had ridden to this place on horseback, with one of 
Smith's servants. Smith groped his way up the 
bank, and found Arnold among the bushes and trees. 
Most of what I 'm telling you now, I got from the 
narrative Smith gave after he was arrested. Well, 
Smith conducted Major Andre to where Arnold was 
waiting, and there left them. After a long time had 
expired, Smith went into the bushes, and reminded 
the conspirators that the night was far spent, and the 
boat must return before daylight." 

"Was Smith really acquainted with the treason 
Arnold was hatching ?" asked Ben. 

" He says he was not," replied Matthew ; " but 
that he understood that Arnold was arranging some 
spy business with a man of the name of John An- 
derson. I hardly believe him. I don't think he 
could have thought so, when he had to go to the 
Vulture, a British sloop-of-war, and bring the man 
off. If Arnold was making arrangements with a man 
from New York, to act as a spy, as Smith says he un- 
derstood^ how could that spy have been sent from a 
British vessel, in the night, by the aid of the captain 



AT MORRISTOWN. 327 

of the vessel ? It 's my private opinion that Smith 
knew all about the matter. But, to return to the 
story. The conspirators were roused by this hint, 
but not having eflfected the object of their meeting, 
agreed that Smith and the boatmen should return up 
the river. In the mean time, Andre mounted the 
servant's horse, and went with Arnold to Smith's 
House, but three or four miles from the place of 
meeting. The night was very dark, and the voice 
of the sentinel, demanding the countersign, first told 
Andre that he was within the American lines. This 
came unexpected to him, and he felt the danger of 
his situation. The two horsemen arrived at Smith's 
house just at dawn of day, and the boat soon after- 
wards. Arnold had seen that Smith's family were 
removed from the house, before he started on his 
errand. About the time of the arrival of the whole 
party at Smith's house, a cannonade was heard down 
the river. It was soon discovered to be against the 
Vulture, which was in full view from Smith's house, 
and seemed to be on fire for a time. She was com- 
pelled to move from her position, and drop down the 
river, till she was beyond cannon-shot. Arnold and 
Andre stayed at Smith's house, together, in a room 
up-stairs, all that day, and there the business was 
settled. There the selfish traitor sold his country 
for gold, along with all the great military fame he 
had won. Pleasure and extravagance had led him 



328 THE CAMP-FIRE 

into heavy debts ; and, to get clear of them, he turned 
a foul traitor to the cause of liberty, and left his name 
as a stain on his country's honor. Well, Andre 
stayed the next day at Smith's house, by himself; 
Arnold having gone up the river, to his head-quarters. 
I do n't know why Andre did not return to the Vul- 
ture that night ; but I know he started for New York 
hy land. Major Andre had procured a plain coat in 
exchange for his military one, as a disguise, and put 
the papers concerning the treason, in his stockings. 
He and Smith set out a little before sunset, accom- 
panied by a negro servant belonging to Smith. They 
rode to King's Ferry, in order to cross the river, from 
Stony Point to Verplanck's Point. On their way to 
the Ferry, they met several persons that Smith knew, 
and he laughed and joked with them, and even stopped 
at a tent where some loungers were drinking, and 
took a bowl of punch with them — Andre went slowly 
ahead, saying nothing, and was waiting at the Ferry 
when Smith overtook him. It appears that Smith 
had tried to draw him into conversation on the road, 
but did n't succeed." 

" He understood the weight of the business he had 
been transacting, I suppose, and that made him re- 
served," said Ben. 

"Or else he had a presentiment that he was going 
to be detected," observed the other Pennsylvanian, 
who, along with the Plibernians, contented himself 



AT MORRISTOWN. 329 

with being a good listener, only making occasional 
observations at intervals in the narrative. 

'' It was dusk in the evening," continued Matthew, 
nodding assent to the interruptions of his comrades, 
" when Smith and Andre rode up from the Ferry, 
and passed through the works at Verplanck's Point. 
Smith rode up to Colonel Livingston's tent, a short 
distance from the road, but Andre and the servant 
went on. Smith told Colonel Livingston that he was 
going up the country, and had charge of two letters ; 
one to Arnold, and the other to Governor Clinton. 
He was asked to stay to supper ; but declined, on the 
ground that his friend was waiting for him. He then 
joined Andre. They got along very well till between 
eight and nine o'clock at night, when they were 
hailed by a sentinel of a patrolling party. The man 
ordered them to stop; and Smith accordingly dis- 
mounted, and enquired who was the commander of 
the party. The sentinel told him, Captain Boyd; 
and, just then, the captain came up. He was very 
inquisitive, and wanted to know who Smith was, 
where he belonged, and what was his business. His 
questions were all answered, but the Captain was n't 
satisfied. He wanted to know how far they were 
going that night. Smith replied, as far as Major 
Strang's ; but it happened that Strang was n't at 
home. The passport of Arnold had to be shown to 
the Captain, before he would be satisfied to let them 
28* 



330 THE CAMP-FIRE 

pass. Even then, he wanted them to stop there all 
night. Smith told him that he and his companion 
expected to meet a person near White Plains, from 
whom they could procure some important intelligence 
for General Arnold, and that they must go forward 
as quick as possible. The Captain finally directed 
them to take the North-Castle road, as being the 
least dangerous. He said that the Tarrytown road 
was infested by the bands called ' Cow-boys,' and that 
they had done much mischief lately. Smith began 
to wish to stop for the night, when he heard of the 
dangers of the road; and at last he determined to 
do so, whether Andre was willing or not. Accord- 
ingly, they passed the night at the house of a man 
named Miller, a little way back. The next morning, 
they started very early, and took the road leading to 
Pine's Bridge. After they had got beyond the reach 
of the patrolling party, I suppose they thought all 
their difficulties were over ; for Smith says that 
Major Andre conversed very freely, on a variety of 
subjects. They passed along quietly — that is, they 
were not disturbed by anybody wishing to stop them 
— till they got within two miles and a half of Pine's 
Bridge. Here Smith intended to end his journey. 
The Cow-boys had been seen on the other side of the 
bridge, and it was a little too dangerous for him. 
They took breakfast at the house of a Dutch woman, 
who had been robbed by the Cow-boys, but who had 



AT MORRISTOWN. 331 

still some milk and pudding left to set before them. 
After breakfast, Smith divided his small lot of paper 
money with Andre, and took leave of him. He then 
returned with his servant to Fishkill, where he had 
left his family, and Andre went on. The journey 
Andre had to perform was a dangerous one. It was 
through what was called ' the neutral ground.' The 
Cow-boys and the Skinners, who ruled it, were bands 
of robbers belonging to the different sides in the war. 
The Cow-boys were tories, and they plundered every 
one who took the oath of fidelity to the State. The 
Skinners were about half republicans, and they plun- 
dered all who did not take the oath. Andre had 
about thirty miles to travel before he could get 
through this country. He did n't take the road that 
Smith thought he would take, but turned off into the 
Tarrytown road. This was the road where the Cow- 
boys were ; and as they were tories, he thought he 
would be safer in their hands. It happened that, the 
same morning on which Andre crossed Pine's Bridge, 
seven persons, who lived on the neutral ground, 
agreed to go out in company and watch for stragglers, 
or droves of cattle, that might be seen going to New 
York. Four of this party were stationed on a hill, 
from which they could see along the road for a great 
distance. The other three, — Isaac Van Wart, John 
Paulding, and David Williams, — lay in the iDushes 
at another place, near the road. Well, Andre came 



332 THE CAMP-FIRE 

on without interruption, till he arrived nearly oppo- 
site where the men were in the bushes, — that was 
about half a mile above Tarry town. There John 
Paulding stepped out of the bushes, presented his 
firelock to Andre's breast, and told him to stand. *He 
then asked him which way he was going, and Andre 
enquired, in return, what party he belonged to; to 
which Paulding answered, 'The lower party' — that 
was, the Cow-boys. Andre then told Paulding that 
he was a British officer, on particular business, and 
hoped he would n't be detained ; and to show he was 
a British officer, he pulled out his watch." 

" Perhaps he wanted to offer it as a bribe to let him 
pass," interrupted Ben. 

"Not then," replied Matthew. "Paulding then 
told him to dismount, and Andre tried to make a 
laugh of the matter. He pulled out General Arnold's 
pass, which was to John Anderson, to pass to White 
Plains and below, and then dismounted ; telling the 
men that they had best to let him go, or they 'd bring 
themselves into trouble. Paulding told him not to 
be offended, as he did n't intend to hurt him. The 
three then took him into the bushes, and ordered him 
to pull off his clothes. He did so ; and after search- 
ing him closely, they couldn't find any description 
of writings. They then ordered him to pull off his 
boots, — which he did, but nothing was found ; and 
then they told him to pull off his stockings ; and in 



AT MORRISTOWN. 333 

each one they found three papers. Paulding looked 
at the contents, and said at once that Andre was a 
spy. They then told him to dress himself; and he 
did so. He kept offering them large bribes to let him 
go ; but Paulding answered, when he had made his 
largest offer, that if he would give them one thousand 
guineas, he should n't stir one step. Within a few 
hours afterwards, Major Andre was put under the 
care of Colonel Jameson, with all the papers which 
had been taken from his boots." 

" Here was the divil to pay," said Barney. " All 
his throuble for nothin'." 

" Yes, for a gallows," returned Matthew. " Colonel 
Jameson examined the papers, but didn't seem to 
comprehend their true value. He resolved to send 
the prisoner to Arnold ! This was Andre's only 
hope ; but it was destined to be disappointed. Colo- 
nel Jameson penned a few lines to Arnold, and sent 
the prisoner off, under a guard, to proceed to West 
Point. Major Tallmadge, next in command to Jame- 
son, was on duty when Andre was brought in, and 
did not return till evening. He was surprised at 
what Jameson had done, and persuaded him to have 
Andre brought back. The Major freely declared his 
suspicions of Arnold ; but Jameson would n't listen 
to them. It was determined to keep Major Andre in 
close custody, till orders were received from Wash- 
ington or Arnold ; for a letter had been despatched 



334 THE C*AMP-FIRE 

to Washington as well as one to Arnold. As Lower 
Salem was farther within the American lines than 
North-Castle, Andre was removed to that place, early 
the next morning after his capture, under the escort 
of Major Tallmadge. While there, he was cheerful, 
and made himself very much liked by all who came 
in contact with him. He wrote a letter to Washing- 
ton, in which he revealed his true name and character, 
soon after his arrival. As Washington was expected 
to stop at West Point, on his way to the army at 
Tappan, Arnold kept breakfast waiting for him ; but 
Washington was detained over night at Fishkill, and 
he sent two of his aids to make known to Arnold the 
cause of his detention. When the aids arrived and 
delivered their message. General Arnold and his 
family, and the aids, sat down to breakfast. While 
they were at breakfast, the letter of Jameson reached 
Arnold, and he broke it open and read it in presence 
of the company. He was greatly agitated, but con- 
trived to conceal it from those around him. He told 
the aids that his presence was required immediately 
at West Point, and that if Washington came, they 
should tell him that he would soon return. He then 
ordered a horse to be ready, and went up-stairs and 
told his wife that he would have to leave her, perhaps 
forever ; at which, she fell senseless. He left her, — 
for he had no time to lose, — mounted his horse, and 
rode with all speed to the bank of the river. There 



AT MORRISTOWN. 335 

he got into a boat, and directed the oarsmen to pull 
out into the middle of the stream. The six oarsmen 
did n't know anything of Arnold's treasonable inten- 
tions, and they obeyed his orders. He told them he 
was going down to the Vulture, with a flag, and that 
they must make haste, for Washington was expected 
at his head-quarters. He also promised them two 
gallons of rum, if they would exert themselves. Ar- 
nold raised a white handkerchief as they approached 
King's Ferry, and Colonel Livingston let the boat 
pass as a flag-boat. She reached the Vulture without 
being obstructed, and Arnold got on board and in- 
troduced himself to Captain Sutherland. Then he 
showed another instance of the meanness of his 
character. He called the leader of the boatmen to 
him, and told him that he and his companions were 
prisoners. The man resisted, and said he had come 
on board with a flag of truce, and under the same 
sanction he would return. The captain did n't want 
to resist the positive command of Arnold, but told 
the man that he might go ashore on parole, and get 
what clothes and other things he and his companions 
jieeded. This was done the same day. When these 
men arrived in New York, Clinton set them at liberty, 
despising such an act of meanness." 

" The more you enquire into Arnold's dealings, the 
more mean and contemptible they appear," observed 
Ben. 



336 THE CAMP-FIRE 

"Yes, that's true," replied Matthew. "In this 
instance that I 've just mentioned, it is particuLarly 
true." 

" How did Washington act when he heard of the 
flight of Arnold ?" asked Ben. 

" I 'm coming to that now," replied Matthew. 
" Washington arrived at Arnold's quarters soon after 
his flight to the river. When he was told that Ar- 
nold had been called over to the garrison, he took a 
hasty breakfast, and resolved to go and meet him at 
West Point. He and his oSicers, — except Hamilton, 
who remained behind, at the house, — intended to re- 
turn to dinner. When they were seated in the barge, 
Washington said he was glad that Arnold had gone 
before, as they would have a salute, and the roaring 
of the cannon would have a fine effect among the 
mountains. The boat approached the beach ; but no 
preparation appeared to have been made to receive 
them, and no salute was fired. The officer in com- 
mand of the garrison was seen coming down to meet 
them ; and as the barge touched the shore, he seemed 
confused and surprised at seeing the commander-in- 
chief and his officers. He said he did not expect 
such visitors, or he would have been prepared to re- 
ceive them in a proper manner. Washington seemed 
no less surprised than the officer himself. He asked 
if General Arnold was not there. The officer told 
him that he had not been there for two days, and 



AT MORRISTOWN. 337 

that he had not heard from him in that time. Wash- 
ington was still more surprised at this intelligence, 
but inspected the garrison, and all the different parts 
of the works, thoroughly. This took up about two 
hours. At the end of that time, Washington and 
the officers returned to the barge, and were conducted 
again to Robinson's house. While they were on their 
way from the river to the house, Hamilton came 
directly to Washington, with an anxious countenance ; 
and after a few words in a whisper had passed between 
them, they retired together to the house. While 
Washington was at West Point, the letter from Jame- 
son, and the one from Major Andre, arrived by the 
same express. Jameson's letter contained the papers 
taken from Andre ; and the express which brought 
it and the letter from Andre, had followed Washing- 
ton, as was supposed, on the route from Hartford. 
Washington had returned by another road, and that 
is the reason it missed him. When the despatches 
came to Robinson's house, they were said to be of 
such importance, that Hamilton opened them and 
discovered their contents. The papers were laid 
before Washington without hinting what they con- 
tained to anybody else. The whole extent of Ar- 
nold's treachery was here made clear to Washington. 
Hamilton was immediately ordered to ride to Ver- 
planck's Point, that preparations might be made to 
stop Arnold ; but it was a great deal too late. Ar- 
29 w 



338 TJBE CAMP-FIRE 

nold had got six hours' start. He left his house at 
ten o'clock; and his treachery was not known to 
Washington till four in the afternoon. Washington 
acted with the greatest calmness and self-possession 
after the plot was discovered. He called Lafayette 
and Knox, and told them what had happened, and 
showed them the papers. He only said, ' Whom can 
we trust now?' Mrs. Arnold was frantic with dis- 
tress. Nothing could calm her; and her situation 
affected Washington very much. When Hamilton 
arrived at Verplanck's Point, a flag of truce had 
come from the Vulture to that post, with a letter 
from Arnold to Washington. This was sent at once 
to Washington, with a note from Hamilton. Sir 
Henry Clinton, it appears, knew nothing of the 
capture of Andre, till the Vulture arrived at New 
York, the next morning." 

" Well, you need n't tell us about the execution of 
Andre. We know as much about that as you can 
tell us, I guess," said Ben. 

" Thank you, Ben, for your gratitude," returned 
Matthew. " Here I 've been amusing the whole of 
the party for two hours or more, and, instead of 
thanking me for it, you interrupt me. But I '11 stop 
now ; and that 's the last story, or narrative, or song, 
you '11 get out of me." 

"Ocb, niver mind the b'y; go on wid ye," said 
Barney. 



AT M0RRIST0T7N. 339 

But solicitation was vain ; Matthew was inflexible 
in his resolution ; and, in the end, the men were com- 
pelled to set about preparing for the night's rest. 
The fire was arranged so as to occupy less space, and 
yet give out sufficient warmth to keep the men from 
freezing during the night. The blanket — the sol- 
dier's luxury — was produced by each one of them. 
Meantime, they continued talking. 

"Och, I wonther what sort of a traither Arnold 
would have turned, if he had had such murtherin' 
livin' as we have ?" enquired Barney. 

" Perhaps," said Matthew, " if he had been a com- 
mon soldier, and lived as we have to live, he would 
have been more faithful. In such a life, there would 
have been no heavy debts to worry him into doing 
anything to get money." 

" I hardly believe that," returned Ben. " Arnold 
was a wholly selfish man. I do n't know of any- 
thing he done that didn't have its motive in some 
self-gratification. He performed many daring acts ; 
but it was for the glory attached to the deeds, and 
not because he thought they would be a benefit to his 
country." 

"Don't judge too quickly," said Matthew. "Al- 
ways give a man credit for the best motive, till you 
know the contrary." 

" If he had performed some deed, in which he 
would be called upon to suffer in reputation, although 



340 THE CAMP-FIRE AT MORRISTOWN. 

such a deed would really benefit his country, as Gen- 
eral Washington has done, he might escape the cen- 
sure," observed Ben ; " but none such appears in his 
whole career." 

" Perhaps no opportunity presented," replied Mat- 
thew. " But we '11 talk over this matter some other 
time." 

The whole party had prepared themselves as well 
as circumstances would admit, for the night's rest; 
and some were already stretched by the fire, as Mat- 
thew and Ben ceased talking. Unimportant remarks 
were occasionally made by the Hibernians ; but very 
soon even they grew mute, as sleep folded her cur- 
tains around them. Then the sough of the wind, as 
it wandered around the hut and pierced through the 
crevices, was all that tended to disturb their repose ; 
for they could sleep on their hard bed, though the 
cold air did come in upon them. They were soldiers 
who had passed through the hardships of a three 
years' service in that army whose suflferings had 
scarcely a parallel. 



THE CAMP-FIRE ON THE OLD PEDEE. 

After the disastrous defeat of the American army 
under General Gates, at Camden, in South Carolina, 
General Greene was appointed to supersede him in 
the command. A better selection for that office could 
not have been made. General Greene united in his 
character all those qualities necessary to retrieve the 
reputation of the American arms in the South, and 
to build up an army on the ruins of the one handed 
over to him by General Gates. The unbounded 
fruitfulness of resource ; the prudence of his judg- 
ment ; the energy of his movements ; and the cool 
courage which he displayed in the time of greatest 
danger ; have caused him to be ranked second only 
to Washington, among the generals of the Ee volution. 
He overtook the remnant of the army at Charlotte ; 
to which place Gates had advanced. The appearance 
of the army was wretched beyond description ; and 
their distress, on account of the scarcity of provisions, 
was little less than from their want of clothing and 
other necessaries. Gates had lost the confidence of 
29 * (341) 



342 THE CAMP-FIRE 

all the officers, and the troops were without discipline. 
Plunder was the only resource they had for obtaining 
provisions, and they became the terror of the neigh- 
borhood. The officers were obliged to live upon 
charity ; making daily collections in that manner, 
and then only obtaining a little Indian meal and beef 
at a time. This was the state of the army when 
Greene took command. Almost naked in the middle 
of winter ; obtaining food only by force or begging ; 
among a people divided in their political sentiments 
and attachment ; the troops were dispirited and unfit 
for action, Greene immediately removed the army 
from Charlotte, and encamped in the midst of a better 
country, on the banks of the Old Pedee River. The 
consequences of this movement showed how judicious 
it was. The camp soon abounded with supplies for 
man and horse, principally procured by the personal 
efforts of Greene ; and the most assiduous exertions 
were made, to clothe and discipline the troops. 
Everything seemed more promising. 

It was a clear, cold night in January, 1781, soon 
after the army had encamped on the Old Pedee 
River. The moon threw her pale, ghostly light over 
the encampment and upon the surface of the river. 
The watch-fires of heaven were burning brightly 
above, but shed no warmth upon those beneath. The 
wind creaked through the trees, and swept piercingly 
across the river and through the encampment. In 



ON THE OLD PEDEE. 343 

one of the tents, near the edge of the river, a party 
of men were huddled around a fire, partaking of the 
morsel allotted to them for an evening meal. The 
winters of South Carolina were mild, compared with 
those further north, and which the American army 
endured at Valley Forge ; but the men were almost 
naked. The tent was large enough to lodge about 
half-a-dozen men. The fire was in the centre, and 
the men were sitting around it. 

" Well, Joe," said one of the men, who had just 
put his last piece in his mouth, " this is a kind o' 
hard farin' ; ain't it ? Now that we 've got somethin' 
to eat, without stealin' it, I wish we could come across 
some clothes in the same way." 

" Ah," returned another, " we call this hard farin' ; 
if all be true that I've heard tell about how the 
troops suffered up north there, in the early part of 
the war, this livin' of ours is good. We think it's 
cold, just now, because it makes us shiver and huddle 
around this 'ere fire. Why, I've heard tell that 
when the soldiers used to be marchin', the ice would 
cut their bare feet, and set the blood flowin' ; the men 
used to be froze fast to the ground, till their comrades 
broke them away." 

" Oh, that 's pilin' it on too thick. Their marches 
were tracked by the blood from their feet, but there 
was no such thing as you 're tellin' us about," replied 
another of the group. 



344 THE CAMP-FIRE 

" So I Ve heard 'em saj^," continued the one who 
had delivered himself of the story. " Them " is the 
usual indefinite authority. 

" That Gates was the cause of all our troubles/' 
remarked the one who had spoken first. " If that 
German baron's advice had been followed, there 
would n't have been a defeat at Camden." 

"No, nor a battle neither; he knew we weren't 
fit for a fight," added the one who had been called 
Joe. 

" They say that Gates told him he was a coward, 
just before the battle ; he ought to be alive now, to 
throw it back to the man that went to fetch the 
rascals back, and did n't come back himself," observed 
another. 

"Did any of you hear about the doin's at that 
council of war, held while the enemy were comin' 
up ?" asked one of the men. 

" Yes," replied another. " Sergeant Hand was 
tellin' us all about it ; though, how he got to know 
anythin' of it, I do n't understand." 

" Oh, he 's imitate with some of the officers higher 'n 
himself," said another, who had not spoken before ; 
"besides, you know, while Gates was in command, 
just before Greene come, they were n't near so con- 
founded strict with us as they are now, and they 'd 
tell us anythin' to hurt Gates." 

" Well, there's no use o' turnin' in yet ; besides, if 



ON THE OLD PEDEE. 345 

we do, the fire '11 get down, and it's most plaguy 
chilly. So, Joe, you 're the gabbiest one of the lot, 
tell us about it; will you?" said the one who had 
asked about the council of war. 

Joe was nothing loth to talk ; indeed, he liked to 
talk. The men declared that he spoke enough for 
the whole party. As soon as the call was made, 
therefore, he caught it up eagerly, and, with a few 
preparatory hawkings and spittings, he commenced 
his narration. 

" You see, boys, I may as well give you a whole 
account of the council of war and the death of the 
brave old German. For though I was with you 
chaps, in the rear of where he fell, I 've been pickin' 
up an account of the whole matter, from some of the 
men that were fightin' round him, a-trying to save 
him." 

"Yes, Joe," interrupted one of the men, "only 
do n't put in any of your own make. Mind, we seen 
as much of it as you did." 

" Oh, there 's no use of lyin' about the thing. All 
I 'm a-goin' to tell you, I 've heard 'em say who was 
there and seen it all. Well, in the first place, I 
heard that, the night before the battle, some of the 
officers were talkin' to Gates about the expected fight, 
— among which officers was Baron de Kalb ; and one 
of the officers, in talkin', happened to say, ' I wonder 
where we shall dine to-morrow.' No doubt, he had a 



346 THE CAMP-FIRE 

sort o' feelin' that we were goin' to be whipped next 
day. Well, Gates had a pretty certain kind of a 
way about him, you know ; and he said, — as if there 
couldn't be any doubt about the matter, — 'Dine, sir? 
why, at Camden, to be sure. I would n't give a pinch 
of snuff, sir, to be insured a beef-steak, to-morrow, 
in Camden, and Lord Cornwallis at my table.' I 
don't know what he counted on for winnin' the 
battle ; but I s'pose he thought he was a whole army 
himself. The Baron de Kalb was there, as I said 
before; and he said he was decidedly against the 
doin's of Gates, and foretold how the army would be 
ruined if a battle was fought then ; and he said, too, 
that he believed he was goin' to fall in the fight. 
You see, he was a man of some judgment; he was 
an old general, that had fought in Europe, and he 
knew when an army was fit for fightin', and when it 
was n't ; but Gates seemed to think that he did n't 
know as much about the matter as he himself did; 
and so he didn't pay much attention to it. Well, 
the next day, when we got wind of the approach of 
the red-coat army. Gates called a council of war of 
his ofiicers ; and you know that most of 'em seconded 
him, and went for fightin' the enemy at once; but 
De Kalb opposed it. He said that it would be best 
for the army to fall back, and take a good position, 
and wait for the enemy to come and attack us ; then 
we would stand a better chance with our raw troops ; 



ON THE OLD PEDEE. 347 

for we had very little cavalry. Then, they say, 
Gates would hardly listen to this advice ; and when 
De Kalb had concluded givin' it, Gates said he was 
fixed on fightin' then and there ; and a kind of hinted 
that De Kalb was afraid to fight. At the hint bein' 
given, they say, De Kalb's face colored up ; and 
lookin' at Gates with the contempt he deserved, he 
said, ' Well, sir, a few hours, perhaps, will prove who 
are the brave ;' and then he jumped down from his 
horse, and went and put himself at the head of his 
command, on foot. I'd have given all the little 
clothes I 've got on my back now — and that 's the 
most valuable thing to me here-^if I could have seen 
the old man when he done that. It would have done 
me good, I know. I like to see a man who knows 
his worth, show his contempt of the one who attacks 
him in that way. His sayin' what he did, shows, 
too, that he could see right through Gates, and what 
would be his actions next day. Well, you know all 
about the skirmishes we had that night, and how the 
militia were dispirited by the advance bein' broken 
and driven back ; and you know, too, how, the next 
mornin', the battle begun in earnest. The whole left 
wing, as soon as they were charged by the red-coat 
bagonets, threw down their arms and run, as if they 
never had a thought of doin' any fightin'." 

" Yes, we know all about that ; there 's no use of 
your tellin' it all over again," said one of the men. 



348 THE CAMP-FIRE 

" Well, I won't," returned Joe ; " but the militia in 
the left wing threw down their arms and run, as I 
said before; and Gates went Ho bring the rascals 
back,' and stayed himself. But we continentallers 
were in the right wing, and we didn't run. We 
stood there like men, and fought the whole force of 
the red-coats." 

" Yes, and whipped them nicely for awhile. I saw 
several prisoners taken, myself," put in one of the 
men. 

" There was the Baron de Kalb," continued Joe, 
getting animated in retailing a description given him 
by some one else, — " There was the Baron de Kalb, 
fightin' hand to hand with the enemy; fightin' on 
foot, at the head of our troops — showin' who was the 
brave. The men were fallin' thick around him, 
standin' by him to the last. He cut down all that 
pressed on him ; and the man who told me about it, 
says he saw him plunge his sword into the breast of 
his foes, as they aimed their blows at him ; but it was 
all up-hill work. The brave old man fainted and fell 
to the ground ; he had eleven bagonet wounds. Then 
there was a rush made to shield his body. The in- 
fernal red-coats tried to get at him with their bago- 
nets, and our men tried to stop 'em. Some of the 
Britishers tried to save him, as well as our men, but 
they were killed in makin' the attempt. Then his 
aid-de-camp rushed in through the clashing bagonets, 



ON THE OLD PEDEE. 349 

and stretchin' his arms over the body of the old hero, 
cried out, ' Save the Baron de Kalb ! save the Baron 
de Kalb !' I suppose the Britishers did n't know who 
he was before ; for as soon as the aid-de-camp cried 
out, some British officers rushed in, and stopped the 
Britishers from killin' him right off. "We couldn't 
stand the force of the enemy any longer, after De 
Kalb fell, and we had to quit the field. I 've heard 
tell, since, that the red-coats took care of De Kalb, 
but he didn't live long; he thought of us, and the 
bravery we showed that day, till the last minute of 
his life. He said he died the death he always prayed 
for ; — the death of the soldier fightin' for the rights 
of man. He was a great man, indeed ; and whenever 
I think of him, it makes me feel as if I could chaw 
some of them red-coats right up !" 

" He was a great old man, as you say," observed 
one of the men, " but his death appears to have been 
more glorious than any other event of his career ; 
and very few of us, perhaps, will have that said of 
us." 

" That you do n't know," said Joe ; " he served a 
great while in the French army in Europe, and bore 
a very high rank there. He might have seen many 
a glorious fight." 

" He served three years in our army, too, and was 
in some of our hardest fights," observed another of 
the group. 
30 



350 THE CAMP-FIRE 

" Yes," returned the one who had spoken first after 
Joe had finished his account, " but there was more of 
the real hero shown in the manner of his death than 
in anything else that we know of. It 's a great sight 
to see a man choose his ground, and hold on to it till 
he is cut down by the overpowering force of the 
enemy. It 's what few men who go into battle think 
of. Too many of the battles we hear tell of are 
made up of a few rounds of firing, and then a retreat 
of one party or the other. Men ought to go into a 
fight with the intention of whipping or being whipped ; 
and so did De Kalb and the men under him, the day 
of the battle of Camden." 

" Well, Mr. Preacher, you talk well enough about 
the matter. The next fight we have, we '11 ask for 
your instruction. This idea of yours, about a fellow's 
fightin' till he 's cut up, ain't what it's cracked up to 
be, when you come to tryin' it," said an individual 
who had hitherto remained silent. Probably, he was 
one of those who had retreated early in the battle of 
which they were talking. 

" He talks like a man of courage," said Joe ; " and 
I think he 's one of the kind that follows out what 
he says. I 've seen him stand to his post when many 
a one would n't." 

" Thank ye, Joe, for that good word," returned the 
one who had criticised the manner in which battles 
were occasionally fought. 



ON THE OLD PEDEE. 351 

"Well, boys," said one of the soldiers, who had 
not taken any part in the conversation, or even lis- 
tened to any of it, having been taking a nap by the 
fire, " have you heard about the surprise of Sumpter, 
at Fishing Creek ? I do n't know anything about the 
battle of Camden, or De Kalb, either, any more than 
I 've heard you tell ; but if you have n't heard about 
the surprise of Sumpter's troops, I can amuse you for 
a little while, by tellin' you about it." 

* Yes, but we did n't hear any of the particulars," 
replied Joe. " That long customer, over there, that 
just was talkin' about there bein' no fun in fightin' 
till you 're cut up, was tellin' us about the affair ; but 
he did n't seem to know much about it himself, and 
he could n't tell us much. He said there was some 
little fightin', and a great deal of runnin' away." 

The soldier who had volunteered to give an ac- 
count of the surprise, looked over the fire at the in- 
dividual alluded to by Joe, and seemed, for a moment, 
to detect in him some resemblance to a person he had 
seen before ; but he said nothing about the matter, 
and commenced : — 

" I was one of the body of men under Sumpter, 
who, before the defeat of Gates, at Camden, captured 
some British stores and their convoy between Camden 
and Charleston. I had joined the corps just before 
that took place, thinkin' that the kind of fightin' he 
done was more to my taste than the regular service." 



352 THE CAMP-FIRE 

At the announcement of the soldier that he had be- 
longed to Sumpter's troops, the long individual looked 
over the fire in his turn. The scrutiny which he 
gave the soldier's face seemed to satisfy him of some- 
thing; for he immediately got very restless in his 
seat. He said nothing, however, and the soldier con- 
tinued. " We continued at the post between Camden 
and Charleston, our parties seekin' every chance to 
harass the British forces, till we heard of the defeat 
of Gates, when we also began to retreat, with what 
prisoners and stores we had captured while at that 
post. We retreated in the greatest kind of haste, 
for we knew we should have the British troops after 
us — we had caused them so much trouble. We 
marched four days, with little or no sleep or rest; 
and at the end of that time we thought we had got 
pretty much out of the reach of the enemy, and we 
encamped on the banks of Fishing Creek, for the 
night. Sumpter took every precaution to prevent a 
surprise. Videttes were stationed at proper points, 
and such a disj)Osition of the troops made, that it 
seemed almost impossible to come upon us before we 
had time for preparing for an attack. But the vi- 
dettes were men ; and marching four days, without 
resting, would overcome some of the stoutest men. 
They fell asleep at their posts ; and, soon after, the 
camp was aroused by the attack of the British legion 
of Tarleton. He had pursued us with the most un- 



ON THE OLD PEDEE. 353 

tiring swiftness, and his horsemen rode into our camp 
before we knew he was near us. The best part of 
our men took to the river and the woods ; but Sump- 
ter rallied a few of them, myself among the number, 
and we stood our ground for awhile pretty stoutly 
against Tarleton's infantry ; but his horse forced us 
to break, and we took to the woods. All our artillery 
and stores, and the prisoners we had taken at our 
former post, were captured. I escaped through the 
woods, and the whole of our detachment being dis- 
persed, and not having any place where they would 
meet again, I determined to join the regular army." 

By the time the man had concluded his story, the 
individual who had attracted his scrutiny felt satisjfied 
that he would not be noticed by the narrator ; but he 
was mistaken. 

" I had almost forgot something, though," said the 
soldier. " That fellow over yonder, who was talking 
a little while ago about the folly of fighting till you 're 
whipped, was at that affair, I 'm pretty certain. He 
was in the same company as I was, and I think he 
was true to his principles ; for he was one of the first 
to leave the ground." 

" Oh, you 've got hold of the wrong feller ; I was n't 
there," said the man alluded to. 

" I believe it," said Joe. " He looks and talks like 
one of the brave boys." 

" There 's no use of denying it," said the one who 
30* X 



354 THE c'amp-fire 

had given the account of the surprise. " I do n't 
forget men's faces so easily." 

The advocate of runaway principles persisted in 
denying that he had been with Sumpter at all ; but 
the whole party joined in the expression of their be- 
lief that he was guilty. 

" We '11 put him in the forlorn hope, next time, if 
he stays with our army ; that '11 do him some good, 
perhaps," observed Joe. 

The men wrapped themselves in their blankets ; — 
that is, those who had them ; — and those who did 
not possess that soldier's luxury, secured the nearest 
place to the fire, for the purpose of resting for the 
night. While Joe was getting ready, like the rest, 
he continued talking. 

"That surprise of Sumpter was another conse- 
quence of the battle of Camden. It 's a great pity, 
too ; that was an active set of men, and might have 
been of great service to our cause." 

"Yes," replied the soldier who had been with 
Sum;"'ter, " you may well say that. I 've heard tell 
that Cornwallis said that Sumpter gave him more 
trouble than anybody else in these parts. The red- 
coats do n't understand that sort of war he does ; but 
he's not done with 'em yet. Twenty such defeats 
would n't dampen his spirits." 

The men had by this time fixed themselves by the 
fire, and some of them were soon slumbering; but 



ON THE OLD PEDEE. 855 

Joe would occasionally break out, propounding some 
question or other to the individual next to him, till 
even he ceased to disturb the gathering silence, and 
the toils and cares of the whole party were soon for 
gotten, while they wandered in the land of dreams. 



THE CAMP-FIRE IN THE STV^AMP. 

The history of the exploits of the partisan bands 
of Marion and Sumpter, in South Carolina, is, per- 
haps, the most interesting and romantic that the war 
of independence furnishes. The defeat of Gates, and 
the almost total annihilation of his army, gave the 
entire command of the State to Lord Cornwallis ; but 
though Marion or Sumpter had no force competent to 
oppose the British in the open field, they had gathered 
a few men who were willing to undergo any priva- 
tion, for the sake of the independence of their coun- 
try, and who cherished an undying hatred of the 
tyranny of the English rule. These few were lulled 
with the active spirit of their leaders. The north- 
eastern part of the State of South Carolina was the 
field of Marion's operations. There the party under^, 
his command took refuge in the recesses of deep^ 
swamps, where the enemy would not dare to follom 
them. From these retreats they would sally out, 
whenever an opportunity offered to harass the enemy, 
and thus they kept the British in a constant state of 
29 * . (356) 



THE CAMP-FIRE IN THE SWAMP. 357 

alarm. The party, for several weeks, nunibered only 
seventy men ; and, at one time, hardships and dan- 
gers of various kinds reduced that number to twenty- 
five. Major Wemys, the British commander in that 
part of the country, wished to prevent the surround- 
ing inhabitants from co-operating with Marion, and 
accordingly, burnt scores of houses on the Pedee, 
Lynch's Creek, and Black River. But these outrages, 
of course, only served to incite the owners to revenge, 
and many of them took refuge with Marion's party, 
in the swamp. For several months, they were obliged 
to sleep in the open air, and to fly from one post to 
another, as the occupation of one became too trouble- 
some and dangerous. Unfurnished with the means 
of defence, they were obliged to take possession of 
the saws of the saw-mills, and make them into horse- 
men's swords. Often was Marion so distressed for 
ammunition, that he had only three rounds to each 
man of his party, with which he entered into an en- 
gagement. At other times, he brought his men into 
view when he had no ammunition, merely to make 
a show of his numbers. 

The fire was lighted in the swamp. It was on a 
sort of eminence that formed an island, surrounded 
by a deep morass. It was a usual resort of the party 
of Marion, and there he feared no foe. The trees 
around had been cut down, and, trimmed, they formed 
seats for the men, who occupied them, here and there, 



358 THE CAMP-FIRE 

in groups. They had evidently just returned from 
some excursion ; for the men looked tired, and on the 
ground, near the fire, some guns and provisions were 
lying, the fruit of a nightly surprise and attack. 
They were a motley-looking set of men ; scarce two 
of them dressed alike. Some were tall, brawny fel- 
lows, that looked as if they could cope with any one 
that stood before them. Others were as small and 
dried-up looking as Marion himself, who sat near the 
fire, talking to one of his men. Old, black-looking fire- 
locks and powder-horns were the principal weapons 
to be seen ; here and there, a horseman's sword dan- 
gled from the owner's belt. The meal of hoe-cakes 
and sweet-potatoes was cooking at the fire. No 
better fare could they procure till that night's expe- 
dition gave it to them. A colored individual was 
exercising the functions of cook, in keeping the hoe- 
cake and potatoes from burning, with a stick which 
he had in his hand. Several pine-knots served as 
lamps, for the time; and the effect of the light, 
glaring upon the scene, was truly singular. 

The fact of the meal being ready, having been 
communicated to the party, the General and his 
ofiicers were first served, — bark being the substitute 
for dishes. Each man then received his share, upon 
a piece of bark, and they fixed themselves, in messes 
of three or four, as near the fire as convenient, and 
proceeded to make way with the food. To one of 



IN THE SWAMP. 359 

these messes we will direct our attention. It was 
composed of the renowned Sergeant Macdonald and 
three others, — men belonging to the horse of the 
party. 

"Have the scouts been sent out yet, sergeant?" 
asked one of the men. 

"No; the General's just goin' to do it," was the 
reply ; and as Macdonald spoke, Marion gave a low 
whistle, which was answered by three of the men. 
He gave his orders to them in a low tone, and they 
proceeded, through the deep shade of the trees, to 
where the horses of the party nvere placed, under 
charge of two of the blacks. The men were soon 
mounted and off, and their comrades went on with 
their eating and talking, which the departure of the 
scouts had interrupted. 

" I wonder what the General 's after now," said one 
of the group to which we before alluded. There 
must be something in the wind, of some importance." 

" You may be sure of that. Green," replied another 
of the group — a tall, stout fellow, with a very red 
face, looking as if the sun had done its worst upon it. 
" You never see the little man so careful and quiet 
in his motions, but there 's somethin' goin' on that '11 
o:ive us work." 

" Well," said the Scotch sergeant, " I '11 follow any- 
where the Fox leads. But I think we 'd better get 
some rest now, while there 's a bit o' spare time." 



obO THE CAMP-FIRE 

So saying, the sergeant and his comrades stretched 
themselves upon the grassy carpet that covered the 
island; but not to sleep. The day was generally 
their time for sleeping ; for in the night they could 
do the most execution with their small but active 
band. 

"Now I'll talk to ye," said Macdonald, as he 
stretched himself at length, with his head resting on 
one hand, while he brought his food to his mouth 
with the other. 

" Well, sergeant," remarked Green, " can't you tell 
us some of your adventures, or the General's, I do n't 
care which, just to kill time till the scouts come in? 
You 've been leadin' this rough and tumble sort of a 
life for some time with Marion, and you must have 
had some adventures worth tellin'. Besides, here's 
our friend Moran, here, has only been along with us 
since his house was burnt by the Britishers. He 'd 
like to hear something of it, too." 

"Yes, sergeant," said Moran, ''I'm anxious to 
hear about any nice tricks you 've served them in- 
fernal d Is that burnt the house over my head ; 

any real good floggin', or tantalizin', or even cheatin', 
you 've done them fellers, would do me good ; for I 
expect to eat some of 'em right^p, if I once get a 
chance." 

" Oh," returned the sergeant, " I 've done many a 
nice thing for 'em, and Marion has done as many 



IN THE SWAMP. 361 

more ; but I '11 tell you one of my own doin', first, 
because I know more about it than I do of any of 
the General's. I think it was about a month ago. 
when the number of our men was reduced to some- 
where about thirty ; rather a small band for a general 
to command, you might say ; but that 's all there was, 
anyhow. Well, we were driven to all sorts of shifts 
for gettin' somethin' to eat ; and the large bodies of 
red-coats there was about, kept us cooped up all the 
time in the swamp. One day, — I think it was pretty 
near dusk, — I was out, with two others, seein' if I 
could n't come across some provisions. We had been 
out all the afternoon, and not a mite had we got for 
our trouble. Nothin' in the shape of either eatin' or 
drinkin' articles come in my ken. We was gettin' 
pretty desperate, I tell ye ; it 's like enough if we had 
come across fifty men, we would have stolen all they 
had with 'em to eat. Well, we were ridin' on through 
the woods, just outside of the swamp, when, just 
about two hundred yards ahead of us, we thought 
we seed a smoke. Of course, we expected there was 
a fire there, and, perhaps, somethin' to fill our maws 
with. So we stopped our horses on the instant, and, 
gettin' down from 'em, tied 'em to the trees. Then 
we walked sneakin'ly towards where we saw the 
smoke risin' ; and when we got pretty near it, I 
climbed up a tree, to reconnoitre, while the two men 
kept watch below. There I could see the whole 

ai 



362 THE CAMP-FIRE 

scene that was passin' where the smoke was risin'. 
There was about ten of the red-coat infantry seated 
round a fire, while a servant was preparin' a meal for 
'em. I knew that there must be a larger party of 
'em pretty near, for they would n't dare to be there 
at that time in the day, with such a small number ; 
but I didn't care if the whole British army were 
about; I was goin' to have some of their eatin'. So 
I took a pretty good look at 'em, to see how things 
stood, and I saw that they had no conveyance among 
'em for their cookin' things that were on the fire. 
Well, I knew that there ought to have been one 
somewhere ; and I got down with the intention of 
goin' to see if I could find it. I told the other two 
how things stood, and told one of 'em to stay with 
the horses, while I took the other along with me. 
We took our swords only with us ; the guns we left 
to the care of the man who waited with the horses. 
We then stole carefully round where the fire was, 
— lookin' ahead of us, to see whether they noticed 
us, — till we got round nearly opposite to where we 
left the horses. Then we got nearer to the fire ; we 
could almost hear what the red-coats were talkin' 
about. Lookin' through the trees on one side of me, 
I spied a big tin box ; it seemed.Jto be about two feet 
long, and one wide. That was what we were huntin' 
for, I knew at once. So we creeped on our hands 
and knees to it, and found it was nearly full of the 



IN THE SWAMP. 363 

nicest kind of eatin' and drinkin' things. I got up 
to take a look how things were round the fire, and 
found everything goin' on as if there was nobody 
about. My comrade and I took up the box, and 
walked around to where we left the horses. I had a 
sort of fear, as you may call it, that the servant might 
go to hunt the box, to get somethin' out of it ; but 
he did n't, as it happened, and we got the box safely 
round to the horses. The man we left there had 
mounted, and had everything ready for a hard ride, 
if it should be necessary. We mounted our horses 
and took our weapons ; but I did n't intend to leave 
the party of red-coats in such a quiet way. I had a 
fine, fleet horse, and I knew there was none there 
could catch me, if I once got started. So I gave the 
box to the two men, and told 'em to ride straight for 
the camp, here in the swamp. They set out, and I 
waited till I saw they were pretty well out of reach ; 
and then I fixed the rifle I had with me — one of 
them never-fails, that you don't come across often. 
I rode to a place that was somewhat open and clear 
from underwood, where I could have a full view of 
the party of red-coats, yet be hid behind the low 
boughs of the trees. The part}'' were all standin' up, 
holdin' their cups in their hands ; the leader was in 
the middle, close to the fire. I supposed they were 
just goin' to drink a toast — and I was right. The 
one who seemed to be the principal man among 'em, 



364 THE CAMP-FIRE 

raised his cup above his head, and cried out, at the 
top of his voice, 'Here's the health of our most 
gracious master, King George the Third !' As soon 
as I found there was goin' to be a toast drunk, I knew 
at once whose health it would be, because that was 
always the first toast of the red-coats. I looked 
around, to see if the coast was clear, and turned my 
horse's head in the direction my men had gone ; and 
just as the leader had finished his toast, I sung out, 
at the top of my voice, ' Here 's to the death of the 
tyrant !' and, on the instant, took aim at the head of 
the leader, and let fly. The sound of my voice, and 
the report of my rifle, made the whole party spring 
round, to see where it came from; but when they 
saw their leader fall dead, they were so frightened, 
that I believe if I had had a few more men with me, 
I could have taken the whole party prisoners. I 
did n't stop any longer, though ; for as soon as I saw 
the leader fall, and the state the red-coats were in 
about it, I give a loud laugh, and put spurs to my 
horse ; and by the time they could get their guns and 
send a volley after me, I was out of their reach. I 
didn't fear pursuit, then; for I knew the woods a 
good deal better than they did, and they knew, as it 
was gettin' dark pretty fast, that our men would be 
about, and might pick off" some more of 'em. I rode 
on, however, to the camp in this here place, where 
I found the men with the box of provisions. That 



IN THE SWAMP. 365 

was one of my adventures, and I think I served 'em 
a pretty neat trick. I do n't think I 'd have shot that 
leader, though, if he had n't been so braggy and noisy 
with that toast of his. I intended to fire in the air ; 
but I could n't stand the temptation of puttin' an end 
to his braggin'." 

" That was a bold feat," observed Moran ; " but it 

served the red-coat d ^Is exactly right. They 

burnt the house over my head, and drove my family 
to hunt a shelter where they could find one. You 
ought to have shot more of 'em ;" and Moran looked 
very revengeful and savage. 

" Ah, well," replied the sergeant, " I hardly like to 
bring down game in that kind of a way. It's too 
much like murderin'. I like to meet the enemy in 
a fair field, if I can. But I 've no doubt they 'd have 
done as much for me as I done for their captain, if 
they had had the chance." 

" That they would," said Green, emphatically. 

" Well, sergeant," said Moran, '• I hojoe you 're not 
run out yet. You must have some more of the same 
sort." 

" Oh, man, I could talk to you the whole night, 
about such doin's; but — hist!" said the sergeant, 
stopping short, "What's the game now? The 
Swamp-Fox is stealin' round as if he smelt some- 
thin'." 

Most of the party had stretched themselves on the 
31* 



366 THE CAMP-FIRE 

ground; and some were taking a short nap, while 
others were passing the time away, talking with their 
comrades. All had their guns and other weapons 
lying beside them, prepared for any sudden emer- 
gency. Marion had left the group where he had 
been talking, and pretty soon he was seen stealing 
quietly around the outside of the encampment. It 
seemed as if he had caught the sound of some one 
approaching. All eyes that were awake were in- 
stantly directed to his movements, and a silence, only 
disturbed at intervals by the slight plash made by 
an alligator, diving, or the dismal hooting of an owl, 
pervaded the scene. Just as the General had got 
round to the place where the scouts had left the 
camp, he seemed to listen more intently for a while, 
and then slowly returned to his first position. The 
pattering of the hoofs of horses was then plainly 
heard by the listening men, and the scouts rode into 
the camp ; their horses covered with mud, and foam- 
ing somewhat at the mouth. The men sprang from 
their horses, and gave them into the charge of the 
blacks, and immediately proceeded to give Marion 
the result of their reconnoitring. As soon as the 
General was possessed of the intelligence, he gave a 
cry — an imitation of the cry of the swamp-fox — 
and the whole party instantly sprang to their feet. 
The General called his few officers to him, and whis- 
pered his orders ; they then went to ascertain if their 



IN THE SWAMP. 367 

men were prepared. The horses were brought out, 
and by far the largest part of the men were mounted. 
A few moments served to get everything in readiness, 
and, with the General at the head, and the other 
officers scattered through the line, the band left the 
encampment in single file, by the same way as the 
scouts had previously gone. At that place, no doubt, 
there was a safe passage over the morass that sur- 
rounded the island on which was the encampment. 
The night was dark, and the party had to carry two 
or three pine-knot torches with them, to light the 
way, as they rode through bog and brake. After 
riding through the swamp in this manner, for about 
half an hour, they attained the solid ground of the 
wood that skirted the swamp. Here the order was 
given to halt, and the party were drawn up in closer 
order. The scouts were sent out to reconnoitre, while 
the General, through his officers, explained to his 
men how he wished them to act. The game was a 
detachment of the British troops, which had been 
ascertained to be about three hundred strong. They 
had been sent in pursuit of Marion, and they had 
encamped just outside of the wood that surrounded 
the swamp, upon the bank of a small stream. Marion 
had determined to surprise them ; and although his 
own force was no more than half that of the enemy, 
he had the advantage in knowing the country better 
than they did. They had encamped in a very favor- 



368 THE* CAMP-FIRE 

able position, with their front to the wood, and had 
their videttes posted, to prevent surprise. The scouts 
returned to Marion and reported how matters stood ; 
and, with a slight exhortation to his men to do their 
duty, and some additional orders to the officers, he 
gave the order to proceed. The torches were hid 
where they could be found when necessary, and the 
band moved silently, but quickly, through the wood. 
A small party were placed in the advance. They 
soon caught sight of the camp-fires of the British de- 
tachment. The videttes perceived them, and fired 
their guns; but they were upon the camp in a 
moment, before the alarm was fairly given. They 
rushed into the midst of the British like a hurricane, 
bearing down all before them, while the drum was 
heard beating, calling the enemy to arms. They left 
their camp and fled in every direction, in the endea- 
vor to escape from the sabres of Marion's men ; while 
their pursuers shouted as they drove them before 
them. Uncertain how large the force was that had 
attacked them, their fears magnified it to twice the 
amount it really was. Some were killed, a few cap- 
tured, and the remainder were dispersed in every 
direction. The band of Marion soon returned to the 
enemy's camp, from the pursuit, and set to work to 
share the spoils in such a manner as to make them 
easy of carriage. A large quantity of arms and pro- 
visions of all kinds were captured, together with a 



IN THE SWAMP. 369 

few horses that had been left in the wood, near at 
hand. Part of the tents were set fire to by the 
owners, before they left, to prevent them from falling 
into the hands of the foe ; but a few were saved, and 
these, also, the joarty took charge of They then set 
out for their own encamjDment, with the spoils, and 
arrived there without further incident. 

A good night's work had Marion and his men per- 
formed; and the men looked with some degree of 
satisfaction upon the spoils, as they were heaped up 
in the open space around the fire. Marion, himself, 
seemed somewhat elated with the success of the en- 
terprise; and a smile glowed upon his sunburnt 
features, as he looked upon the fruits of their activity, 
and thought how the news of his success would cha- 
grin the British commander who had sent the detach- 
ment in pursuit of him. Among the spoils, was a 
quantity of wine, that had belonged to the British 
ofiicers, and some brandy that was intended for the 
soldiers. These two much-relished beverages were 
distributed among the officers and men of the band, 
in goodly portions, and it was determined to pass the 
remainder of the night as merry as possible. The 
provisions were stowed away till a more pressing 
occasion. The rest of the spoils were put away until 
the next day. When the liquor had been distributed, 
and each man had his portion safely in his cup or 
jug, or whatever receptacle he was possessed of, the 

Y 



370 THE CAMP-FIRE 

party scattered about the area again. Our group, — 
consisting, as before, of the sergeant, Green, Moran, 
and another, — seated themselves upon the ground. 

"Now, boys," said the sergeant, holding a small 
mug in his hand, which he had made sure of in the 
general capture, " we Ve somethin' to put a little life 
in us ; though it 's not exactly the thing Scotch whis- 
key would be for me." 

"It's the very thing for me," replied Green, "I 
wish there was more of it." 

" Out, man ; do you want to get drunk ? You 've 
enough there in that cup of yours to make you a 
little flighty, anyhow. But hold on a bit; I've got 
a toast for you to drink." 

" Well, out with it, sergeant ; for I 'm in a hurry 
to get a drink," said Moran. 

The four raised their mugs a little, and Macdonald 
said : " Here 's to General Marion. May the hunters 
of the Swamp-Fox always meet with the same recep- 
tion as they got to-night !" 

The men swallowed the toast in a long swig of the 
liquor ; and as they reluctantly withdrew the mugs 
from their mouths, each smacked his lips in satisfac- 
tion. 

" That 's what I call a good toast well drank," said 
Green, looking in his cup longingly, upon the re- 
mainder of his portion. 

" Yes," returned the sergeant, " the subject of the 



IN THE SWAMP. 371 

toast makes it a good one. This night's work was as 
neat a planned thing as I 've heard of yet ; and the 
General must have the credit of it all. He puts a 
little of his own spirit into the men at such a time • 
— but, Green, sing us that song of yours, about the 
Swamp-Fox. It 's a good thing, wherever you got it 
from, and I like to hear it." 

Green was anxious to sing. The liquor he had 
drank had put him in that state when the spirits 
must break out into singing, or dancing, or talking ; 
so he did not make the looked-for and customary 
apologies, but jumped at the request. 

"Certainly, sergeant, certainly. I'll do anything 
towards amusin' the rest of the company. I ain't 
back'ard." So saying, he sang the following song, in 
a slightly tremulous voice, but tolerably loud. The 
sound of his voice attracted the attention of some of 
the other men who were sitting within hearing, and 
they gathered near to listen. 

THE S WA M P - F X . 

We follow where the Swamp-Fox guides, 

His friends and merry men are we; 
And when the troop of Tarleton rides, 

We burrow in the cypress tree. 
The turfy tussock is our bed, 

Our home is in the red-doer's den, 
Our roof, the tree-top overhead, 

For we are wild and hunted men. 



372 THE CAMP-FIRE 

We fly by day, and sliun its light; 

But, prompt to strike the sudden blow, 
We mount, and start with early night, 

And through the forest track our foe. 
And soon he hears our chargers leap, 

The flashing sabre blinds his eyes, 
And ere he drives away his sleep, 

And rushes from his camp, he dies. 

Free bridle-bit, good gallant steed. 

That will not ask a kind caress. 
To swim the Santee at our need. 

When on his heels the foemen press — 
The true heart and the ready hand, 

The spirit stubborn to be free — 
The twisted bore, the smiting brand — 

And we are Marion's men you see. 

Now light the fire, and cook the meal, 

The last, perhaps, that we shall taste j 
I hear the Swamp-Fox round us steal. 

And that's a sign we move in haste. 
He whistles to the scouts, and, hark ! 

You hear his order calm and low — 
Come, wave your torch across the dark, 

And let us see the boys that go. 

We may not see their forms again, 
God help 'em should they find the strife, 

For they are strong and fearless men, 
And make no coward terms for life : 

They'll fight as long as Marion bids, 
And when he speaks the word to shy. 



IN THE SWAMP. 373 

Then — not till then — they turn their steeds, 
Through thickening shade and swamp to fly. 

Now stir the fire, and lie at ease, 

The scouts are gone, and on the brush 
I see the colonel bend his knees. 

To take his slumbers, too — but, hush! 
He's praying, comrades: 'tis not strange; 

The man that's fighting day by day. 
May well, when night comes, take a change, 

And down upon his knees to pray. 

Break up that hoecake, boys, and hand 

The sly and silent jug that's there j 
I love not it should idle stand 

When Marion's men have need of cheer. 
'Tis seldom that our luck affords 

A stuff like this we just have quaff'd. 
And dry potatoes on our boards 

May always call for such a draught. 

Now pile the brush and roll the log: 

Hard pillow, but a soldier's head. 
That's half the time in brake and bog, 

Must never think of softer bed. 
The owl is hooting to the night. 

The cooter crawling o'er the bank, 
And in that pond the plashing light 

Tells where the alligator sank. 

What — 'tis the signal! start so soon. 
And through the Santee swamp so deep, 

Without the aid of friendly moon. 
And we, heaven help us, half asleep ! 

32 



374 THE CAMP-FIRE 

But courage, comrades, Marion leads, 
The Swamp-Fox takes us out to-night; 

So clear your swords, and coax your steeds. 
There 's goodly chance, I think, of fight. 

We follow where the Swamp-Fox guides. 

We leave the swamp and cypress tree. 
Our spurs are in our coursers' sides, 

And ready for the strife are we. 
The tory camp is now in sight, 

And there he cowers within his den ; 
He hears our shout, he dreads the fight. 

He fears, and flies from Marion's men. 

" Good," said the sergeant, when Green had con- 
cluded the song. " I like that song better every time 
I hear it. Green, you sing it well." 

" Much obliged, sergeant, for the compliment," re- 
plied Green ; " but neither the music nor the singin* 
of it is as good as the words." 

" No," said Moran. " The words tell exactly the 
life we lead here in the swamp. At one time we 're 
hunted by the red-coats as if we were wild beasts ; 
at another, we hunt them. The only difference is, 
we bring down our game a great deal oftener than 
they do." 

^' That 's a fact," returned the sergeant ; " and now 
let 's drink another toast, and that '11 finish the liquor. 
Here's to the health of the red-coats. May they 
soon learn that the right way to keep it is to go back 



IN THE SWAMP. 375 

to their own land, and leave us to take care of our- 
selves." 

This toast was received with a cordial " Ha, ha !" 
by the men around the sergeant, and drank with a 
great deal of animation. 

" Now, sergeant," said Green, beginning to feel a 
little ' elevated,' " tell us some sort of a yarn, to fill 
out the time till mornin', and then we '11 go to bed 
with the owls." 

"Yes," added Moran, "anything at all; we ain't 
hard to please." 

" Well," replied the sergeant, thus appealed to, " I 
do n't think you are hard to please, Moran, since you 
got that brandy. I expect you feel like laughin' at 
anything just now. I'll tell you one of Marion's 
capers, that you have n't heard of, perhaps." 

" How did you hear of it, sergeant ?" asked Green. 

" Me hear it ? I was on the spot, and saw it," an- 
swered Macdonald. 

" Oh !" ejaculated Green, as if satisfied of the truth 
of the story. 

" You see, men, it was about three or four months 
ago, I think, — for I hardly know how the time goes, 
— the General was pretty hard pushed for ammuni- 
tion. We had been tryin' to get some, everyhow we 
could think of, but could n't do it ; because, you see, 
the British had our little party penned up close in 
the swamp. We had only about fifty men in all. 



376 THE dAMP-FIRE 

Tarleton and his troop were huntin' round, and they 
had a large force of infantry in the neighborhood. 
Well, somethin' had to be done ; for to be idle was n't 
in the make of Marion. The only way we could get 
any ammunition to supply our wants, was to attack 
the convoy that brought the stores to the British in 
the neighborhood. These convoys sometimes num- 
bered a hundred men each ; but often more than that. 
Besides, they were well provided, in every respect, 
for an attack. Well, Marion resolved to attack one 
of these convoys ; and he laid his plan for it with 
the greatest care. The principal things to be done 
were these : — A party of our men, numberin' only 
five, — that was all we could spare, — was to take a 
route through the woods, just opposite to the one the 
whole band were goin', and they were to lurk around 
the large detachment of infantry in that direction, 
and once and a while show themselves, to make the 
British think the whole of our band were in that 
neighborhood ; and then the commander of the de- 
tachment would give the commander at the station 
where the convoy come from, notice of the fact, and 
thus throw 'em off their guard. Then, on the night 
of the attack, the whole of the rest of the band were 
to march to a place which he mentioned, where there 
was a good chance for hidin', and a better one for an 
attack. It was a place where the road, along which 
the convoy was expected to come, passed through a 



IN THE SWAMP. 377 

wood, where the ground was very much overgrown 
with bushes, at the bottom of a very shallow ravine. 
The road just there made a short turn ; so that when 
we were stationed on each side of it, just before the 
bend, we could let the advance of the party get 
around before we 'd attack the convoy ; and then the 
stores might be secured very speedily. We had only 
three rounds of ammunition for each man, when we 
heard' of an expected convoy of stores. These we 
had treasured for some time, waitin' our chance. 
The party of five were sent on their duty ; and, as 
they sent us word by one of their number, they done 
the business just as we expected ; the British thinkin' 
our whole party was in the neighborhood certain, and 
sendin' word to that amount to the commander at the 
station where the convoy was to come from. We 
were on the ground Marion had fixed upon, before 
night, when the convoy was expected to pass. Every- 
thing turned out as we wanted it. The convoy got 
to the pass as it grew fairly dark. We were at our 
posts, on horseback, in the wood on each side of the 
road. Marion was in command of the party on the 
right of the road, M'^ho were to secure the stores, and 
take them through the wood, in that direction. I 
was with the party on the other side, and we were to 
attack the body of soldiers in the rear of the stores. 
On come the convoy, with their torches and lanterns 
lightin' the way, never thinkin' anybody was goin' to 
32 * 



378 THE CAMP-FIRE 

trouble 'em. The advance got fairly round the bend 
in the road, and the wagons in which were the stores 
were right opposite to us, when the word was given 
to our party to fire and rush on the rear-guard ; and 
we poured a volley into them that staggered 'em at 
once. Then we come down on 'em, from the sides of 
the road, like all creation ; hootin' and shoutin' at the 
loudest. At the same time, the party under Marion 
came down, from the other side of the road, upon the 
wagons with the stores ; and while we were slashin' 
away at the rear-guard, a part of Marion's men were 
securin' the stores, and draggin' 'em off into the wood 
as fast as possible. Such a yellin' as we kept up all 
the time, you can't think of. To-night's business had 
a good deal of that, but it was n't anything like the 
other. Part of the horsemen in the rear stood their 
ground, but the rest made off back the way they 
came. The advance got themselves turned around 
by the time most of the stores had been secured by 
the men of Marion's party, and sent to our place of 
meetin', in the swamp, as fast as ten men could carry 
and drag 'em. The rest of his party came to our 
rescue, and helped to beat down the rest of the rear- 
guard. But there was no time to lose ; we could n't 
stop to take prisoners. The advance was comin' back 
upon us ; but the wagons were in their road, and they 
could n't get at us without great danger to themselves. 
The order was given, and we poured our last volley 



IN THE SWAMP. 379 

into 'em, and then took to the wood. Marion was 
nearly the last man on the ground ; but he had the 
best horse. He gave a shout, and fired his pistol into 
the foremost horseman's breast, and followed his men 
into the wood just in time to save himself from the 
sabres of the rest of them. I was behind him, and 
saw him do it; and then we rode through the wood 
nearly side by side. We had to move quick through 
that wood, I tell you. We had to cross another road 
before we got into the swamp, and Marion had strong 
fears of bein' attacked there. The body of horsemen 
we had left behind us would not dare to follow us at 
night, through the wood. They had had a taste of a 
surprise ; besides, they had plenty of wounded to 
take care of, I know. My sabre done a pretty deal 
of work, and I know the rest of the boys were n't be- 
hind me in it. We had three wounded, but none 
killed; and these wounded we brought away with us. 
We passed the crossin' safely, but hurried on as fast 
as the carriage of the stores would let us, till we got 
far into the swamp, and then we slackened our pace. 
The men were almost worn out with the hard ride, 
and carrying the wounded and the spoil of our attack, 
by the time we reached our camp. We had captured 
a great deal of ammunition and provisions, and they 
served us for some time ahead ; I think it was about 
a month. Our decoy party had arrived some time 
before us. But mind, we had to keep close for a 



380 THE CAMP-FIRE 

week or so after that surprise. The British detach- 
ment were awful wrothy about losin' their provisions 
and ammunition, and the next convoy had double the 
number of troops with it that the other one had. I 
can't help thinkin' how dashed the red-coat troops 
must have felt, ridin' into the British camp with their 
empty wagons." 

As the sergeant paused, he looked up, expecting to 
hear the remarks of his companions on the gallant 
exploit he had just narrated. Green was fast asleep, 
and the two others had sunk into a state of listless- 
ness, which was the precursor of sleep. 

" Why, blast ye !" exclaimed the sergeant, pushing 
Moran with his rough hand, " you have n't been lis- 
tenin' to my story, after askin' for itj but ye shall 
pay for it, I tell ye." 

So saying, the sergeant yawned, and, stretching 
himself on the ground, he pulled a small log towards 
him, for a pillow, and, thus prepared, gave himself to 
sleep. 

The fire had almost burned down ; the men were 
sleeping in various positions, all over the ground near 
the fire, and some on the large logs close at hand. 
Marion's short, slender form, and sunburnt face, might 
there be seen, stretched quietly by a log, with a 
piece of the canvass of a tent for a pillow. Never 
did a soldier, with as hard a bed, sleep as calmly and 
soundly as he was sleeping. There, far in the swamp 



IN THE SWAMP, 381 

that formed their fortress, the little band that so suc- 
cessfully and so gallantly upheld the independence 
of their country, were sleeping, fearless of attack ; 
and there, with the lap of their mother earth for a 
bed, their guardian heaven for a roof, and the stars 
to light their way through the land of dreams, we 
leave the hardy band to realize 

. " How sweet the hour that brings release 
From danger and from toil !" 



THE CAMP-FIRE ON THE HILLS OF SANTEE. 

After the battle of Eutaw Springs, so glorious for 
the American arms, the army retired to a position 
they had formerly occupied, on the high hills of San- 
tee. That battle may be considered as the close of 
the war in South Carolina — that being the last gen- 
eral engagement of the two opposing armies. The 
American troops were in high spirits, for they had 
accomplished a great deal in that single campaign of 
1781. They opened the campaign with the gloomiest 
prospects. The whole State of South Carolina was 
in possession of the British army, and the Americans 
had scarcely the means of taking the field to oppose 
them. Yet this wretchedly-provided army, under 
the conduct of the military genius of Greene, had, at 
the close of the campaign, reduced the possessions of 
the British to the near neighborhood of Charleston. 
This was, indeed, enough to put the Americans in 
high spirits. Supplies for their camp were now abun- 
dant ; for the crops which the British had planted, 
with the expectation of reaping the harvest for their 

(382) 



CAMP-FIRE ON THE HILLS OF SANTEE. 383 

own benefit, fell into the hands of the victorious 
Americans, and gave them a seasonable relief. 

The time of the encampment of the American 
army on the high hills of Santee, was the latter part 
of August and September, of the year 1781. The 
principal actions of the campaign had taken place in 
the heat of a southern summer; and the weather 
was still very warm when Greene returned to his 
position on the Santee. The camp, as we have said, 
was filled with supplies, and every ojpportunity was 
offered for the troops to enjoy a rest after their toils. 

The evening was a calm and beautiful one. The 
red glow upon the horizon, that marked where the 
glorious sun had bid the scene farewell, was fast mel- 
lowing into a violet hue. The crescent moon was 
softly beaming from the cloudless sky, and, one by 
one, her assisting stars twinkled into view. A silence, 
broken only by the noise native to the field and wood, 
was gathering over the scene. The white tents made 
the encampment look like a close-stoned graveyard, 
in the evening light. The men were generally in 
their tents ; but sleep could not visit their senses so 
early. In one of them, four men were Ij'ing upon 
the ground that formed the floor of the tent, as near 
the opening as they could get. The front of the tent 
looked out upon the country upon the hills, a scene 
which they regarded with an interest which argued a 
strong feeling of the beautiful, in the men. They 



384 THlT CAMP-FIRE 

were waiting for one of their number, who made up 
the mess of the tent. He had left the camp, in the 
afternoon, for a short excursion into the country, and 
had not yet returned. Their evening meal was al- 
ready prepared upon the fire in the tent, but the men 
had concluded to wait for their comrade, both for the 
sake of his company, — for he was the liveliest one 
of the mess, — and that he might not want company 
himself. They waited patiently till it began to grow 
dark, when one of them remarked : — 

"I wish Harry 'd make a little haste, if he is 
^.omin' ; I 'm beginnin' to feel a little like puttin' 
away some fodder." 

"Oh, Bill, we can afford to wait a little longer. 
His company generally makes the food taste as good 
again," said another of the men. " There 's no dull- 
ness while he 's about. I 've been in service the 
whole campaign ; and I never come across a fellow 
like him in camp, yet." 

" He 's a first-rate chap," replied Bill, " but fodder 's 
a good deal better for a hungry stomach than his 
company, I 'm thinkin'." 

" Here he comes !" exclaimed the individual nearest 
the entrance. " He 's just turnin' the corner of the 
wood." 

" Ha, ha ! boys," said Harry, " you 've eaten up all 
the victuals, I suppose, by this time. I'm awful 
ravenous, after the tramp I 've had." 



ON THE HILLS OF SANTEE. 385 

"No, indeed," replied Bill; "we've been waitin' 
for you till I 'm almost hungry enough to eat you up. 
Come on now ; will you ?" 

As Harry arrived at the tent, the men arose, and 
set about fixing the fire so as to make a light in the 
tent, to enable them to ^ find the way to their mouths,' 
— though, in their present hungry state, that would 
not have been a difficult operation, — and also divided 
the provisions they had been cooking. 

"Well, boys," said Harry, "I've been wanderin' 
through the country, up here, to see what it's like. 
I tell you, there 's some pretty scenery around these 
parts." 

" I know it," said Bill. " I saw it when we were 
camped here before." 

" For my part," observed Harry, " I 'd sooner look 
at beautiful scenery than eat." 

"Ah !" said Bill, disposing of his victuals at a won- 
derful rate, " you romantic young men are apt to let 
yourselves be carried away from the substantial busi- 
ness of life. Now, for my part, I'd sooner eat a 
dinner of my old mother's cooking, than look at all 
the pretty scenery in creation. There 's nothin' like 
eatin'." 

" Except it is drinking," added John ; another of 
the men. 

"Yes, that's well put in," replied Bill. "Good 
eatin' and drinkin' is a pair of things I fell in love 
33 z 



386 THE CAMP-FIRE 

with just after I was born, and the likin' still sticks 
to me." 

" If you fellows keep on, you '11 get me to quoting 
poetry," said Harry, who was, from his conversation, 
evidently a man of some education. 

"Oh, don't," replied Bill. "Of all things, I hate 
poetry. I like to hear things said in a plain, com- 
mon-sense way, and not tuned to music. Such things 
are foolish." 

"Well, Bill," said Harry, "you are about the 
dullest customer I 've ever had to deal with. What 's 
a man fit for, that don't like pretty scenery and 
poetry? Nothing but ^treasons, stratagems, and 
spoils,' as Shakspeare says." 

" Oh, drat the poetry, and the Shakspeare, and all 
that. Tell us somethin' worth hearin'. Somethin' 
that you 've seen this campaign, if you 've got nothin' 
else," said Bill. 

" Yes," said John ; " somethin' about this campaign. 
You've been in it all through, and you must have 
seen somethin' worth tellin'." 

"Well, boys," replied Harry, as he put his last 
piece in his mouth, " I think I can tell you about 
things that I've seen this campaign, that'll amuse 
you for awhile. Let me see. You joined the army 
just before the last battle, I believe ?" 

"John and I did," replied Bill; "but Joe, over 
there, has been in service the whole campaign, like 



ON THE HILLS OF SANTEE. 387 

yourself. Bob, here, joined, he says, after the battle 
at the Court-House." 

" Well, Joe can keep himself still, while I tell you 
three all about the different affairs that have come 
under my observance. If I get too prosy and dull in 
my narrative, you must stop me. To begin, then. 
Guilford Court-House was the first place I ever saw a 
battle. You may have heard that, just before that 
battle, Greene was reinforced by two brigades of 
militia from North Carolina, and one from Virginia, 
and about four hundred regulars, raised for eighteen 
months. It was with these regulars that I joined the 
army. Before we arrived, Greene was desirous of 
avoiding a battle with Cornwallis, — being in no M^ay 
equal to him in force ; but after our arrival, he con- 
cluded that our army was strong enough to risk a 
battle with the enemy. We were four thousand four 
hundred strong; but the largest part were militia. 
Cornwallis had with him about two thousand four 
hundred men ; and they were chiefly troops who had 
seen many a victorious field. Our troops were drawn 
up in three lines. The front was composed of North 
Carolina militia; the second, of Virginia militia; 
and the last, of continental troops, commanded by 
General Huger and Colonel Williams. The battle 
was opened by a brisk cannonade, in front of the 
British army ; and then they advanced in three col- 
umns. The Hessians were on the right, the Guards 



388 THE CAMP-FIRE 

in the centre, and Colonel Webster's brigade on the 
left. They attacked our front line, which, as I told 
you, consisted of North Carolina militia; but when 
they were nearly a hundred and fifty yards off, the 
militia gave way. The reason was, they were un- 
trained troops; and the colonel of one of the regi- 
ments cried out to another officer, at some distance, 
that ^he would be surrounded.' Now you might 
guess what ejffect such an announcement would have 
upon raw troops. They did n't stop to inquire whe- 
ther it was true or not. That shows the use of hav- 
ing good officers, and how much depends upon them. 
The Virginia militia were the next to meet the ad- 
vance of the enemy ; and they stood their ground, 
and kept up their fire, till they were ordered to re- 
treat. That was on account of their having a good 
and brave commander. General Stevens was the 
man. He posted forty riflemen, at equal distances, 
twenty paces in the rear of his brigade, with orders 
to shoot every man who should leave his post; and 
although he was wounded in the thigh, he set his 
men the example, by keeping his place. When the 
Virginia militia retreated, our turn came. I suppose 
you know how a man feels when he first goes into 
battle. In my case, the cause for anxiety was much 
greater than it generally is. I knew that everything 
depended upon the regular trooj)s, and that we would 
have the principal shock of the battle to bear. Then, 



ON THE HILLS OF SANTEE. 389 

of course, we would have some hard fighting. At 
first, when I heard the roar of the musketry and 
cannon, and saw the wounded of the Virginia militia 
borne past us, I thought that, perhaps, that would be 
my fate ; and I thought, also, of home and the friends 
I had left behind me; particularly one very near 
friend, that I knew was looking with anxiety for my 
return. But then, as the time for us to engage ap- 
proached, I thought of the tyranny of the enemy we 
were fighting against, and that I stood there as the 
defender of my home and fireside from oppression ; 
and by the time the order was given for us to engage, 
every fear of consequence was banished from my 
mind. I went ahead, heart and soul, intent on doing 
as much mischief as I could. We fought for an hour, 
and a half, in the most obstinate and bloody manner. 
The veteran troops of the British came on with the 
force and steadiness they had displayed on many 
former occasions ; and our half-trained regulars met 
them as if they, too, were veterans. The bravery 
our troops displayed in that contest of an hour and a 
half, could not have been surpassed; but discipline 
triumphed. The enemy broke the second Maryland 
brigade, turned our left flank, and got in the rear of 
the Virginia brigade. They even appeared to be 
gaining on our right, when they would have sur- 
rounded us; and the General therefore ordered a 
retreat. We retreated about three miles, and then 
33* 



390 THE CAMP-FIRE 

drew up again, expecting the British to follow up 
their success ; but they had been too much galled for 
that. The victory, as they called it, beat them so 
badly that they dared not follow us ; and when we 
had collected our stragglers, we retreated to Speed- 
well's Iron- Works, about ten miles from Guilford. I 
was n't hurt any ; but you must n't infer that I did n't 
do much fighting. I stood my ground, and blazed 
away while the men were falling all around me ; and 
I learned to look death in the face pretty steadily 
that day. However, I was n't sorry when the battle 
was over. We had reaped every advantage from the 
encounter but the bare possession of the field. They 
had lost six hundred and sixty-three, in killed and 
wounded, without the officers ; and we had about 
four hundred killed and wounded. They were com- 
pelled to retreat from Guilford, soon after the battle, 
and to leave the wounded they had captured, and 
seventy-five of their own, in the same condition. We 
were ready for another battle, as soon as we retired 
to Reedy Fork ; but they would n't attempt such a 
thing." 

" When I went to school," interrupted Bill, " I used 
to read, in a Roman history we had, about a general 
that brought a large army into the country of the 
Romans ; and, in a battle that they fought with the 
Romans, they were victorious ; but, when the battle 
was over, the general of the army invading the coun- 



ON THE HILLS OF SANTEE. 391 

try of the Komaiis, said : — ' Another such a victory, 
and I am undone.' I guess the British commander 
might have said the same thing, after that battle 
you 're speakin' about." 

"Very true, Bill. The general you mean was 
named Pyrrhus," replied Harry. 

" Yes," said Bill. 

" The loss of the battle — that is, the field — was 
blamed upon the North Carolina militia ; was n't it ?" 
asked John. 

" Yes," replied Harry, " and with very good reason ; 
they might have given the enemy a severe check, if 
they had stood their ground. Then, with our regular 
troops to second them, the victory would have been 
certain. As it was, the fate of the day was for a 
long time doubtful." 

" Well," put in Joe, " go on with the narrative ; 
will you ?" 

" All in the proper time," said Harry. " You know 
that, soon after the battle of Guilford Court-House, 
Greene marched into South Carolina, which he said 
he would recover, or die in the attempt." 

"Yes; we've heard of the noble resolution of 
Greene," said Bill ; " Joe was tellin' us about that." 

" Well," continued Harry, " the main body of the 
army marched against Camden, while Colonel Lee 
marched to join Marion, on this river here, the 
Santee, to lay siege to Fort Watson, between Camden 



392 THE CAMP-FIRE 

and Charleston. I was with the main army, and 
therefore I can't tell you any more about the surren- 
der of Fort "Watson than you know already. We 
encamped before Camden. It 's a small village, situ- 
ated on a plain, covered on the south and east sides 
by the Wateree and a creek, and was defended on the 
northern and western sides by six redoubts. The 
British force there numbered about nine hundred 
men ; and they w^ere commanded by Lord Rawdon, — 
a brave and prudent man, be it said. Our army con- 
sisted of about nine hundred continentals, and two 
or three hundred militia. The General, of course, 
wouldn't attempt to take such a post as that by 
storm, or even think of investing it, with such a force 
as we had. So, he took post about a mile from Cam- 
den, and waited to see if the garrison would come out 
of their lines. We were n't disappointed. The 
whole British force, under the command of Lord 
Rawdon, came out to meet us ; and from the arrange- 
ments we had made, we thought victory was certain. 
We encountered the British on their advance, and 
drove them before us, after a short conflict. While 
they were retreating, pursued by some of our troops, 
from some mistake or other. Colonel Gurley, who 
commanded the first Marjdand regiment, ordered 
them to retire. That order caused our defeat; for 
the enemy rallied at once, on seeing the Maryland 
troops retire, and returned to the charge with such 



ON THE HILLS OF SANTEE. 393 

impetuosity, that we were forced to retire ; buib we 
did it in such order, that we brought off most of our 
wounded, all our artillery, and a number of prisoners 
we had taken. So you see the enemy did n't get 
anything by our retreat, except the honor of defeating 
us. That was a great deal, however, to General 
Greene. He thought the victory certain ; and he 
had taken measures to cut off the enemy's retreat. 
It was a bitter disappointment, I tell you, just when 
we thought we had beaten the enemy, to be defeated 
by a mistake of an officer. But Camden seemed to 
be an unlucky place for us. Everything we at- 
tempted near there failed ; — not from any want of 
bravery or generalship, but from some cause impos- 
sible to be foreseen. The British lost about one-third 
of their whole force, in killed and wounded, and we 
lost about one-fourth. They retired to Camden, after 
our retreat ; but Greene had taken such measures to 
cut off their supplies, that although they received a 
reinforcement of four or five hundred men, they soon 
evacuated Camden, and we attained the object of the 
previous battle. That was a specimen of Greene's 
generalship. He was just as active after a defeat as 
before the battle, and nothing could dishearten him." 
" That was the whole secret of his success in the 
campaign," said Bill. " He gained his object some- 
times while sufferin' from a defeat on the field of 
battle." 



394 THE 'camp-fire 

" But you were tellin' us how you felt on goin' into 
your first battle," said Bob ; " how did you get along 
in this one ?" 

" Oh, boy, a man never has such feelings a second 
time," rei^lied Harry. " I felt like a veteran. When 
I heard the roar of the artillery, and mixed in the 
battle, it seemed like a familiar scene to me. The 
bullets whistled around my ears, and it seemed like 
music I had heard before ; and then the charge with 
the bayonet, when the enemy began to give way ; — 
I rushed upon them with as hearty a will as I ever 
did anything." 

" Yes ; and I suppose when they rallied and turned 
on you, you left in the same manner," said Bill. 

" That 's an insinuation, Bill. Of course, I was n't 
sorry to get away with whole bones ; but I expected 
to see the red-coats whipped, and did n't feel much 
like leaving the ground to them." 

"Well," said Joe, anxious to keep Harry to the 
point, "go on with your story, or you won't get 
through before it 's very late." 

" Well, I left off after the battle before Camden. 
I '11 tell you about an incident that occurred while we 
were encamped near that place. After the battle, 
desertions of the army were increasing to an alarming 
extent ; and the General resolved to put an end to 
them, by putting to death any one who should be 
guilty of desertion, and afterwards taken. This re- 



ON THE HILLS OF SANTEE, 395 

solve was communicated to the army ; but it appears 
that some of the men either weren't aware of the 
firmness with which General Greene executed his 
resolutions, or else the temptations to desert were too 
strong. However it was, the communication of the 
General's resolution didn't have much effect. The 
men continued to desert the same as before. Greene 
gave orders for their capture wherever they could be 
found ; and, accordingly, eight men were taken soon 
after their desertion, and the unbending Greene con- 
demned them to be hung on one day. The army 
was ordered out to witness the execution, and the 
apj)ointed day arrived. I shall never forget the scene 
presented to us, when the condemned men were al- 
lowed to take leave of their wives and children, be- 
fore suffering the rigorous penalty of the crime they 
had committed. I call it a crime, because it appears 
to me to deserve that name. To desert a small army 
like ours, fighting for their homes, in our time of 
need, after a bloody battle, when we were reduced by 
the loss in killed and wounded, seems to me to be 
worthy of being called criminal. The children were 
clinging to the parent they were about to lose, and 
the women were not to be consoled, as they hung 
round the necks of their husbands. I could scarcely 
bear it myself; but the General, you know, is a man 
that does n't often waver from his clear line of duty 
because his feelings are excited. You may have 



396 THE CAMP-FIRE 

heard that, when Andre was undergoing his trial for 
being a spy, he asked that his punishment by hanging 
should be commuted to that of being shot ; for he 
wanted to die like a soldier. All the officers were 
anxious to grant his request but Greene. He said 
that Andre was either a spy or an innocent man. If 
he was a spy, the laws of war prescribed the penalty ; 
if he was an innocent man, all punishment of him 
was unjust; and Greene's opinion prevailed. This 
showed the General's unbending firmness in the exe- 
cution of the clear line of duty. But I wander away 
from my story a little too much. The General could 
not be moved by any such scene. One by one, the 
men mounted the scaffold which had been erected, 
and were launched into eternity. I could only look 
at the first two. I could look calmly on, and see men 
slain in fighting with their foes in a fair field; then 
they died as I would wish to die myself But to see 
men walk up to meet their death like dogs, by the 
rope, was more than agreed with my nature. I waited 
anxiously till the last body was cut down, and never 
felt so relieved in my life, as when we received the 
order to move from our position. 

" Ah !" said Bill, " I 've seen some of that kind of 
work done myself I know pretty near what your 
feelin's were like." 

"What our nature revolts at so much, must be 
wrong," said Harry, argumentatively. "Whatever 



ON THE HILLS OF SANTEE. 397 

the laws of war may be, it seems to me, that putting 
a man to death because he deserts, is a very fooUsh 
thing. Desertion is a crime, in some cases, as I said 
before ; but putting the man to death does n't make 
him a good soldier. They say, that uphold this pun- 
ishment, that its object is to prevent the commission 
of the crime ; and that a punishment not extending 
to the taking of life wouldn't have that effect; but I 
do n't believe it. I 'd like to see it have as much of 
a trial as the other punishment. Then we could tell 
a little truer about it." 

" You talk very fine," replied Bill. " I do n't un- 
derstand the why and wherefore of what you 've been 
sayin', but it looks as if it would stand to reason. 
We ought to have a trial of other kinds of punish- 
ment, before we say that none other will do." 

" I think a man ought to be hung that deserts his 
own colors," observed Bob. " No man worth livin' 
will do it. He never would do any good if he was 
to be let off. It 's a chance if some of the men that 
deserted didn't go and join the red-coats that's 
fightin' against their countrymen; and such men as 
would do that ought to be strung up without a 
jury." 

" You say he '11 never do any good if he was let 

off," returned Harry. "How do you know that? 

He might become a good man, and do a thousand 

good actions, to make reparation for that one bad one. 

34 



398 CAMP-FIRE ON^HE HILLS OF SANTEE. 

Men that have done the worst of actions have re- 
pented, and have done the best." 

" Oh, go on with your story," said Joe, who hated 
arguments. 

" No ; I guess we '11 postpone the rest of the narra- 
tive till to-morrow night," said Harry ; who, no doubt, 
had got to thinking on the subject of the death-pen- 
alty, and did not feel in the humor of any more story- 
telling that night. 

" Well," said Bill, " I 'm willin' to go to sleep now. 
I 've been winkin' some time. But do n't forget where 
3^ou left off in the story, Harry." 

The fire on which the evening meal was prepared 
had been left to die out, and the men closed the 
opening in the tent, and wrapped themselves in their 
blankets. Two or three times, Bill interrupted the 
gathering silence by some question propounded to 
Harry ; but Harry seemed moody, and returned very 
short answers. Bill, therefore, soon got tired of ques- 
tioning, and the whole party were soon wra^Dped in 
slumber. 



THE CAMP-FIRE NEAR CHARLESTON. 

January, 1783, saw the army of the South, under 
General Greene, who had so successfully conducted it 
through the previous campaign, encamped in the 
neighborhood of Charleston, South Carolina. The 
army had suffered greatly from the want of provi- 
sions, ammunition, and all the necessary equipage of 
a camp. The reason of this was, not the want of 
supplies in the magazines, but the difficulty of trans- 
portation. While the army lay within three miles 
of the enemy, they were four weeks without more 
ammunition than six rounds to a man ; and had their 
foes been aware of this circumstance, they might 
have suffered a total defeat. On the 4th of January 
preceding, a reinforcement, under General St. Clair, 
arrived, and General Greene congratulated his army 
on this accession to their strength. The reinforce- 
ment was detached from the main army at York town, 
after the surrender of Cornwallis. The troops were 
in high spirits, on account of the great triumph they 
had achieved, and the prospect it opened of their 

(399) 



400 THE CAMP-FIRE 

speedy return to their homes, and the enjoyment of 
peace. The men composing the reinforcement were 
well received by their brethren in arms, to whom the 
details of the events which had brought about the 
surrender were most interesting. The watch-fires of 
the camp never blazed in the midst of groups of men 
more buoyant in spirits than those which were assem- 
bled around them in Greene's camp, after the arrival 
of the troops from Yorktown. Nearly all looked 
upon the capture of Lord Cornwallis as the termina- 
tion of hostilities, and to them 

" G-rim-visaged War had smoothed his wrinkled front." 

The night was dark and chilly — the severest win- 
ter nights of South Carolina are not much more. 
The warmth of the fires was in demand among the 
troops, and they were well heaped with their neces- 
sary food. Each had its group of five, or more, and 
talking and singing filled the hours before the time 
of seeking repose. Some of the messes were so lucky 
as to secure visitors from the detachment just arrived 
from Yorktown, and they took care to make the most 
of them. To one of this fortunate description we 
will direct our attention. It was a group of six men, 
sitting on some small logs they had drawn near the 
fire. The clothing of most of them was much soiled 
and worn, and their general appearance of face and 
feature might be classed in the same description. 



NEAR CHARLESTON. 401 

The one who honored the mess with a visit could 
readily be distinguished from the rest by a slight 
difference in the appearance of his clothing, and the 
general respect which was paid to him by the rest of 
the men. They were all attention when he spoke ; 
though there was a cordiality about his manner which 
would seem capable of banishing all formality. His 
name was Barton, and he had been introduced and 
welcomed to the men through the instrumentality of 
an old comrade of his, by the name of Crisp. Dick 
Crisp and he had gone through most of the promi- 
nent battles of the early part of the war, in the same 
company. But when General Greene took command 
of the southern army. Crisp's term of service was 
out ; and his family moving to South Carolina, soon 
after, he concluded to join his force. He served with 
Greene through his arduous but triumphant cam- 
paign, and now, near the close of the war, had the 
pleasure of meeting his old comrade, Sam Barton. 

" Ha, ha !" laughed Dick. " You do n't remember 
all the sport we used to have up there, in old Jersey 
and New York, along with all our troubles." 

" Oh, yes," replied Sam, " I '11 never forget some of 
our doings, even though I do n't see any of my old 
comrades any more. Dick, I believe you 're the only 
one left out of all the party of fellows we used to 
know when you were in our company." 

" I am !" said Dick, in surprise. " Why, what 's 
34* 2 a 



402 THE CAMP-FIRE 

become of Bob Jones ? — Long Bob, we used to call 
hinij you know." 

" Oh, he fell at Stony Point," answered Sam. " He 
was one of the forlorn hope. Poor fellow ! He and 
I 've seen some great times together." 

" Then there was Harry Henkins," said Dick. 
"He was a whole-souled fellow. He tended me, 
when I was sick, just like a brother." 

" Yes, there was no mistake about Harry's heart 
being in the right place," said Sam. " He got sick, 
and when his term of service was out, he left the 
army, and I've never seen him since. I think he 
must have either remained sick to this day, or else 
have died; for I often heard him say his country 
should have his arm as long as he was able to shoulder 
a musket." 

" Then there was John Higgins," said Dick, mus- 
ingly. " He 's not dead, too ; is he ?" 

"Yes; poor John fell at Yorktown, after going 
through the best part of the war," replied Sam. " I 
saw him fall. It was just as we were entering a re- 
doubt we had captured. The last fire of the red-coats 
killed him." 

" That was hard," said Dick, " after going through 
so many hard-fought battles." 

" Come, come, men, do n't have all the talk to your- 
selves," remarked another of the group, by the name 
of Kattler. " We would like to hear something about 



NEAR CHARLESTON. 403 

Yorktown. Can't you oblige us, Barton, with a few 
of the particulars of the surrender ?" 

" Oh, yes, I can tell you something about it ; though 
there was nothing of any consequence done there, 
except the surrender of Lord Cornwallis." 

" Oh, do n't tell us that," returned Rattler. " Lord 
Cornwallis is not the man to surrender without some 
fighting. Give us some account of it, anyhow." 

" I '11 tell you what I '11 do," replied Barton. " I '11 
tell you about Yorktown, as far as I saw, and then 
one of you must agree to tell me about something 
that 's been going on down here. There 's a good 
many things that you can tell me, that I want to 
know all about. There 's Eutaw Springs, and the 
Cowpens, and Camden. Any of them I '11 be glad to 
hear about." 

" Bill, here," said Rattler, " was at the Cowpens. 
I suppose he '11 be willing to tell you." 

"Certainly," replied Bill, "if he tells us about 
Yorktown." 

"Let's have a song from Rattler, first, though," 
said Dick. "He can sing about as well as anybody I 
know, and he knows some real stirring songs." 

"Good," said Sam Barton. "I won't tell about 
Yorktown till Rattler does sing." 

" Oh, I do n't want any coaxing," was the reply. 
" ' Silver and gold have I none ; but such as I have 
I give unto you.' I do n't think I can sing some of 



404 THE CAMP-FIRE 

the songs I know, but you 're welcome to it, such as 
it is." 

" Never mind apologies or quoting Scripture, but 
just drive on. We all want to hear the song," said 
Dick. 

" The song I 'm going to sing," said Rattler, is one 
of the real grit. It has a chorus that runs this way, 
— and Rattler hummed over the chorus of the song 
that follows. " You must all join in ; but do n't sing 
too loud, or you'll have the sergeant down on us. 
It is called the * Song of the Revolution.' " The men 
nodded assent, and Rattler proceeded with his song, 
in a tolerably clear and sweet voice : — 

Come, freemen, rally, 

Your banners fling out, 
Till the mountain's top 

Gives back your shout. 
The trumpet is sounding 
O'er valley and glen; 
The sword is unsheath'd 
For the murder of men ! 
Death to the tory, 

Torture and shame ! 
Death to the tory. 
Fagot and flame ! 

King George has declared 

That we shall not be free, 
His vengeance is roused 

For the waste of his tea ! 



NEAR CHARLESTON. 405 

His troops throng our cities, 

His vessels our ports, 
And waves Lis proud flag 

From the tops of our forts! 
Death to the tory, &c. 

All blithe is King George 

As he sitteth on high. 
And the words which he utters 

Are, " Worship or die !" 
And gayly he sits 

'Mid the banqueting throng, 
And listens with joy 

To the reveller's song. 

Death to the tory, &c. 

But his fate is now seal'd. 

And his power is shaken, 
And the people at last 

From their slumber awaken; 
For their blood has been shed 

On the green grass sod. 
And no power now rules them 
Save that of their God ! 
Death to the tory. 

Torture and shame! 
Death to the tory, 
Fagot and flame ! 

" That 's what I call a stirring song," said Barton, 
when the last discord of voices in the chorus had 
died away. "'Death to the tory!' I say. I expect 
they '11 be coming over to our side every day, now, 



406 THE CAMP-FIRE 

when they see we 're the strongest. That 's the way 
with such folks." 

" I told you Rattler knew how to do it," said Dick 
Crisp. " Now we '11 have your story just as quick 
as you please." 

" Well, I '11 soon put you in possession of what I 
know about the surrender," replied Sam. "You 
must know, in the first place, that we — that is, the 
brigade which I belong to — waited at Williamsburgh 
till the arrival of the army of Washington, and also 
till Count Rochambeau arrived, which was on the 
25th of last September. Everything was then pre- 
pared for us to move towards Yorktown, as soon as 
possible. You see, Cornwallis with his whole army 
was at Yorktown, which was strongly fortified. I 
guess the whole strength of the army, after the 
French joined us, was about twelve thousand men. 
Then the militia of Virginia were ordered out, which 
soon made us a great deal stronger. The day before 
we marched from Williamsburgh, General Washing- 
ton told us, in his general orders, if we should meet 
the red-coats on our march, to place our principal 
reliance on the bayonet ; so that we might prove how 
vain was their boasting of their skill in deciding 
battles with that weapon." 

"Was Washington commander-in-chief of all the 
forces — French and American ?" enquired Crisp. 

" Yes, I believe he was commander-in-chief of the 



NEAR CHARLESTON. 407 

united armies," replied Sam. "All the general orders 
were issued by him, at any rate. Well, the next 
day, we started early in the morning, and the front 
of the army halted about two miles from Yorktown, 
at sunset of the same day. We were so near the 
enemy, that General Washington ordered the whole 
army, officers and soldiers, to lie on their arms all 
night. I didn't sleep much that night, although I 
laid down. John Higgins and I talked the best part 
of the night. You see, John had what they call a 
presentiment, I believe, that he was going to be killed 
at Yorktown. As we were lying there, he mentioned 
it to me. He said he knew he never would march 
again with the army. I told him it was all fancy, 
and tried to persuade him out of it ; but he could n't 
be persuaded. Then says he to me, ' Sam, do n't you 
think I 've done my duty to my country ?' Says I, 
' You know I can't think otherwise, John ; you 've 
been in her service for about seven years, and en- 
dured all sorts of toils and sufferings; sometimes 
without pay, or clothes, or anything to eat. You 've 
certainly done your duty, and I hope you '11 live to 
do a great deal more yet.' But he shook his head, 
mournfully, and did n't say anything more for a while. 
At last, he said, ' Sam, do you think you '11 ever go 
back to Springfield ?' — that 's where we both were 
raised. ' If I live till the war 's over,' said I. ' Then 
I want to ask a favor of you,' said he. ^I left a 



408 THE CAMP-FIRE 

mother in Springfield, you know. She '11 look for me 
to come home, when the war's over. I've been 
writing to her off and on ever since I left home, and 
sending her what money I could spare. Your parents 
are both dead, and mother 's poor. Will you see that 
she don't want, for the little time she has to live on 
earth ?' I promised him I would, should his fears 
prove to be true ; and then he grasped my hand, and 
shook it, while the tears trickled down his cheeks." 

" Poor John !" said Dick ; and that was all he could 
say, although his feelings were a good deal stirred by 
the account of his friend's strange presentiment. 

" He was a great friend to me," continued Sam, 
" and I '11 remember his mother, if ever I get back to 
Springfield. But I 'm wandering away from my nar- 
rative. Yorktown is situated on the south side of 
York river, about fifteen miles, I believe, from the 
Chesapeake. Cornwallis's force in the town amounted 
to seven thousand men, at least. Our army was en- 
camped in a semicircle around the place. The Ame- 
ricans formed the right wing, and the French the 
left. Well, we lay there, without the British doing 
anything to hurt us, till the 30th, when we found 
that they had abandoned three or four of their re- 
doubts, during the night, and retired within the town. 
That left us a great deal of commanding ground ; and 
our troops and a party of French were ordered to ad- 
vance and take possession of the ground, while some 



NEAR CHARLESTON. 409 

of the other troops threw up breastworks. The 
British cannonaded all that day ; but they wasted 
their ammunition; for in the whole day's cannonade 
they only wounded four militia-men. On that night, 
we were set to work to throw up two redoubts ; and 
we had them nearly finished before we were disco- 
vered by the British. Then they poured their fire at 
us. But we kept on till we finished our work. On 
the 3d and 4th of October, they kept up a cannonade 
all the time ; but they still wasted ammunition. We 
could see that the red-coats were getting hard-pushed 
for supplies, by the number of carcasses of horses 
floating down the river near our quarters. I heard 
that they killed six or seven hundred of them for 
want of forage. The rascals resorted to everything 
they could think of, to injure us ; no matter whether 
it was allowed by the laws of war or not. They sent 
a parcel of niggers, who had the small-pox, out of 
Yorktown, to try to give it to our troops ; but they 
were driven off, and so that scheme was n't of much 
benefit to them, or injury to us." 

" It 's just like 'em," said Dick. " They do n't act 
like civilized men, no how." 

" Yes ; no matter how they are treated when they 
are captured, or how they are spared when they are 
defeated, they always act like savages," replied Sam. 
"But, as I said, they didn't succeed that time in 
their devilish purpose. On the night of the 6th, a 
35 



410 THE CAMP-FIRE 

large detachment, in which was our regiment, was 
sent out, under command of General Lincoln, to open 
entrenchments near the enemy's lines. The night 
was very dark, and towards the latter part it was 
rainy. Everything was conducted as silently as pos- 
sible. Every officer and soldier knew his proper 
station ; we moved about a mile from our former 
position. The working party were ahead, with all 
their entrenching tools and fascines on their shoulders, 
and then we followed, armed in full. Behind us, 
were the wagons and horses, with bags of sand, for 
throwing up breastworks, and the cannon and ord- 
nance followed. Well, we worked hard all night, 
taking turn about, and before daylight we had fin- 
ished a line two miles in length, and laid the founda- 
tion for two redoubts within six hundred yards of the 
British lines. At daylight, they discovered us ; but 
we were under cover then, and didn't mind their 
blazing at us. It seemed that the French suffered 
more than we did. One of them deserted to the 
British ; and after that the British kept up a constant 
fire against the French lines, and killed and wounded 
some of their men. On the 8th and 9th, our troops 
had a mighty hard time of it, I tell you. They had 
to labor in the trenches, turn about, every other day 
and night ; and you know what sort of work that is, 
Dick." 

" Yes, indeed, I think I do know something about 



NEAR CHARLESTON. 411 

that." rejolied Dick. " It 's the hardest work I ever 
was engaged in," 

" Well, we had it about as hard as anything of the 
kind you or I ever saw," said Sam. " The weather 
was pretty cold and damp ; and, when we were re- 
lieved, we had to sleep in the open field, with only a 
blanket for a covering. I did n't suffer so much from 
the cold, because I had come from a colder climate, 
and had been through some cold winters. On the 
night of the 9 th, we erected a battery in front of our 
line, without being annoyed by the British while at 
work. We soon had two or three batteries ready to 
open on the town ; and, on the 10th, General Wash- 
ington put the match to the first gun ; and then the 
roaring and blazing commenced in real earnest. From 
the 10th to the 15th, there was a continual fire kept 
up both by the French and American batteries. It 
was tremendous. Then there was the return fire 
from the British. At night, it seemed like a constant 
thunder-storm, only a great deal more severe. One 
night, — I forget whether it was the 11th or 12th, — 
a red-hot shell from the French batteries set fire to 
the British frigate Charon and two or three smaller 
vessels. It was a splendid sight. The night was 
dark, and we could see from our post the ships all in 
a blaze ; and then the thundering of the cannon, and 
the flashing of the light they made, with the addition 
of the shells flying through the air, with a long line 



412 THE CAMP-FIRE 

of fire behind them, made as grand a sight as I ever 
saw. We had succeeded in throwing up another line 
of entrenchment nearer to the town, and had bat- 
teries within three hundred yards of the enemy's 
lines. This was done in the night, also. But they 
had two redoubts in front of their principal works, 
which were in the way of our entrenchments ; and 
these, it was resolved, should be carried by assault. 
One of them was on the left of the British garrison, 
on the bank of the river. This is the one our 
brigade was to attack, under the command of General 
Lafayette. The other was to be left to the French. 
You see, Washington wanted to make us try to excel 
each other in the attack. He wanted to get our 
troops and the French excited by a desire to carry 
the point of attack before each other." 

"He knew, I suppose, that our troops could beat 
the Frenchmen at that business," said Rattler. 

" I do n't suppose he did know any such thing," 
replied Sam. " The French are good soldiers, let me 
tell you ; and what we had in our army were some 
of the best of the French. You must recollect that 
we were led by a Frenchman — one of the best gene- 
rals in the army. But I'll leave that matter to 
others to discuss. I 'm satisfied of the bravery of the 
French. The assault took place in the night. The 
advanced body was led on by Colonel Hamilton and 
Colonel Yimat. It was about eight o'clock when 



..Mi 



NEAR CHARLESTON. 413 

it commenced, and the men advanced without firing 
a gun. I was just behind John Higgins, and I thought 
of what he had said. He marched up to the work 
with a firm step, like all the rest. You see, we were 
going to carry the works altogether by the bayonet, 
and we had to advance through the fire from the re- 
doubt. Well, we pushed on after Hamilton and his 
men ; and such was the ardor of the men, that, al- 
though there was a tremendous fire from the whole 
British line, we were in the redoubt in about ten 
minutes after the assault commenced. I think we 
had just fairly entered it, when John Higgins fell just 
ahead of me ; he was shot through the head. I ex- 
pected that we 'd have some killing to do with the 
bayonet ; for some of the officers wanted to take re- 
venge for the slaughter of our troops on two or three 
occasions. But Colonel Hamilton would n't allow it, 
and I think he was right. Some of the men that 
did n't go into the redoubt wanted to know why we 
did n't kill them all ; as if we could have the heart 
to kill men that were on their knees, begging for 
quarter." 

"No; you did right," said Dick. "There's but 
little use of our following such an example as the 
British give us. We 're civilized men, and we ought 
to keep up our character." 

" Certainly," replied Sam. " The red-coats actually 
did go down on their knees to us, begging for quarter. 
35* 



414 THE CAMP-FIRE 

The commander of the fort was taken prisoner by 
Colonel Laurens himself. Then there were thirty of 
the men taken ; the rest made their escape." 

" How many did you lose ?" enquired Rattler. 

" We had only eight men killed, and thirty wound- 
ed," replied Sam. " I do n't know how many they 
had killed and wounded; but before we left the fort, 
I saw a sergeant and eight men lying dead in the 
ditch." 

" How did the French make out in their attack ?" 
asked Bill. 

" Oh, I do n't know much about the particulars of 
that attack," was the reply. " I know, however, that 
they carried the redoubt a little while after we did 
ours. They lost a good many men, too, I believe." 

" What was the reason of their being longer about 
it than you were ?" asked Dick. 

" Oh, I believe they wanted to go more scientifically 
about it. They waited till their pioneers cut away 
the abattis, while we went to work at once, and pulled 
it away with our hands. They were, of course, ex- 
posed to the fire of the red-coats a good deal longer 
than we were. But they did n't flunk a bit. Well, 
to go on with my story, when these two redoubts 
were captured, our second line was complete. Then 
we threw up two or three new batteries in front of 
that line, and some other works, till we had ap- 
proached to within three hundred yards of their 



NEAR CHARLESTON. 415 

principal forts. We could see the execution our ar- 
tillery done, by some of the batteries of the enemy 
being entirely silenced, and the works almost in ruins. 
On the 16th, the British made a sally. I suppose 
.they were getting desperate. About four hundred 
men made an attack on two unfinished redoubts, 
which were occupied by the French ; and they made 
out well, too. They killed several men, and spiked 
seven or eight pieces of cannon. But the French 
advanced and drove them back, with the loss of 
several killed and wounded. By the 17th, we had 
the whole of our works in operation. There was at 
least a hundred pieces of different kinds of ordnance, 
that let loose their thunder and hail on the British 
works. The firing was so heavy, that the ground 
seemed to shake under us. We could see the ruin 
we were making in the town and among their works. 
Some of their batteries were entirely silenced. I saw 
where the ground was ploughed up by the shells ; 
and now and then you would see some of their men 
torn all to pieces by them. It was really an awful 
sight. At last, towards the close of that day, (that 
was the 17th,) two or three flags were seen to come 
from the British and proceed to head-quarters ; and it 
was finally agreed to cease firing till the next day. 
That evening, there was a small party of our com- 
pany sent over to the other side of the camp, where 
the French lay, on some business for Lafayette. I 'm 



416 THE CAMP-FIRE 

not sure, but I think it was to bring some baskets of 
wine from the French commander's. I was with 
them. It was just after a flag had arrived from the 
enemy. We had to go by General Washington's 
head-quarters; and as I saw the door was open, I 
thought I 'd like to know what was going on. So, I 
looked around to see if I could find any way of getting 
at it, and I spied John Burley, on duty as sentinel, 
near the door of the tent. You know John ; do n't 
you, Dick ?" 

" John Burley — John Burley," said Dick, musing. 
" I think I recollect the name, but I do n't know any- 
body just now to put it on." 

" Well, he belongs to Wayne's brigade," continued 
Sam. " I do n't know what regiment or company it 
is. He 's a tall, stout fellow, and he 's seen some 
pretty rough service in this war. He was walking 
near the door, on duty, and I told the men to go on, 
and I 'd catch them in a little while. I went back, 
and began to talk to John about old times, and how 
he 'd been getting along ; all the time trying to see 
what was going on inside of Washington's quarters. 
I asked John ; and he said that a British officer had 
just gone in with a flag. I knew that, and just asked 
him, to make him believe I was n't curious about the 
matter. Just then, I managed to get near the door ; 
and I looked in, determined to have something to 
tell my comrades when I got back. There I saw 




WASHINGTON SENDING HIS ULTIMATUM TO CORNWALLIS. 



NEAR CHARLESTON. 417 

General Washington, standing straight upright, along- 
side of the table. He was just handing some papers, 
or a letter, — I could n't see which, — to a British 
officer, who was about to leave. You know what a 
noble-looking figure and face he has. He looked 
prouder than I ever saw him before. Two or three 
of his aids were sitting on the other side of the table. 
I could n't get more than a glance at things inside, 
before John beckoned me away. But he told me that 
General Washington was just sending his 'ultimatum,' 
I think he called it, to Lord Cornwallis." 

"What's an ultimatum?" asked Rattler. 

" Why," replied Sam, a little hesitatingly, " it 's a 
sort of a last statement of terms, upon which two 
generals, that are fighting against each other, can ar- 
range a peace or a surrender. That is, if the whipped 
general don't accept this ultimatum, he '11 have to 
continue to fight. Washington knew he had Corn- 
wallis safe enough, and he made him come into the 
terms that suited us. Cornwallis wanted to march 
out, with his colors flying; but General Lincoln 
was n't allowed that honor at Charleston, and Wash- 
ington wanted Cornwallis to come into the same 
terms. Well, I bid John good-bye, and hurried on 
after the men, full of news of what I had seen and 
heard. The next morning, we found that Cornwallis 
had tried to make his escape down the river, in boats, 
in the night. Well, that morning, the commissioners 

2b 



418 THE CAMP-FIRE 

were appointed to arrange terms of capitulation ; and 
we still remained quiet in our works, till we heard 
that everything had been settled, and that the British 
army were to march out and lay down their arms. 
Then we almost jumped for joy at our triumph. We 
had plenty of good eating and drinking given to us, 
as soon as it was known that the red-coats had agreed 
to surrender ; and we had a jolly time of it through- 
out the camp." 

" I 'd have given twenty dollars to have been on 
the ground at the time of the surrender," said Dick ; 
" and that 's a big sum of money for one in my con- 
dition." 

" Yes, it was a sight worth seeing, Dick," said Sam. 
" It would have been a good deal more to you men, 
though, than it was to us ; because you 've had so 
many skrimmages with them. The surrender took 
place on the 19 th of October. The red-coats were to 
march out with shouldered arms, colors cased, and 
their drums beating a British or German march. All 
the marines and seamen of their ships were to be 
prisoners of war to the navy of France, and the land 
troops to the United States. All their military and 
artillery stores were to be given to us unimpaired. 
One thing that galled us most, was the escape of the 
most rascally of the tories. You see. General Wash- 
ington arranged the terms so, that the tories were to 
be delivered to us without any conditions for their 



NEAR CHARLESTON. 419 

treatment. But Cornwallis contrived to get him to 
allow a vessel to go to New York, with despatches to 
Sir Henry Clinton, without the vessel's being searched. 
In this way, the tories that General Washington most 
wanted to get hold of, were smuggled to New York." 

" That was an ingenious contrivance," said Dick. 
" Them infernal tories are what you ought to have 
caught particularly. I know in the South, here, 
they 've all deserved hanging." 

" Yes ; not only in the South, but everywhere else 
in the States," replied Sam. " But they got off there, 
anyhow. About twelve o'clock, on the 19th, we 
were all drawn up in two lines, extending more than 
a mile in length. The Americans were drawn up on 
the right side of the road, and the French were on 
the left. At the head of our line, the great Wash- 
ington was stationed, with his aids ; and at the head 
of the French line was Count Rochambeau and his 
aids. There was almost as many people there, from 
the neighborhood, to see the surrender, as there was 
troops; but all was in good order. I think the 
French looked about as handsome and soldierlike in 
their uniforms as any body of troops I ever saw. 
They had some splendid bands of music, too, which 
added a great deal to the novelty of the scene. You 
might suppose we did n't look near so well as they 
did, for we were not all in uniform ; and what troops 
were in uniform did n't look very neat." 



420 THE CAMP-FIRE 

" Yes, I suppose the French made the best show ; 
they always do," observed Dick. 

" They really looked well, that day, and no mis- 
take," continued Sam. " But they never would have 
looked so, if they had seen the service most of our 
troops had seen. About two o'clock, when the British 
army began to move through the two lines, I was 
looking to see Cornwallis, as was most of the troops 
and people. Just as they came in sight, I saw an 
officer, on a splendid horse, dressed in a complete 
British general's uniform. Jack Hand was standing 
next to me, and he got on his tiptoes to look at him. 
^ There 's Cornwallis, now,' said he ; and all around 
us began to murmur and whisper, ' There he comes !' 
* There 's Cornwallis !' But when the general got 
nearer, I saw it was n't Cornwallis ; for I had seen 
him two or three times before. I saw him at Ger- 
mantown very clearly, and I knew that he was n't 
the man that was coming up. As soon as it got to 
be known, everybody looked disappointed. It turned 
out to be General O'Harra, who had been appointed 
to supply the place of Cornwallis, who pretended he 
was sick — ' indisposed,' he called it. I guess he was 
indisposed to show himself at the head of his con- 
quered army, because he was too proud. A com- 
mander who won't share the troubles of his troops, 
as well as their victories and conquests, ought to be 
shot; that's my opinion." 



NEAR CHARLESTON. 421 

" That would n't have been the course of Washinir- 
ton," said Rattler. " If his troops had been compelled 
to surrender, he would have been at the head of the 
column." 

" Well, you know there 's a great deal of difference 
between the characters of Cornwallis and Washino;- 
ton," replied Sam. "After General O'Harra, came 
the red-coat army. They were dressed in full uni- 
form, and looked well enough, as far as that goes ; 
but their ranks were broken, and they had an irre- 
gular step. They seemed to feel the disgrace they 
had to bear, and some of them hung their heads. 
Their arms were shouldered, and their drums beat a 
British march. When they got to the head of our 
line. General O'Harra rode to the commander-in-chief, 
and, taking off his hat, apologized for the absence of 
Lord Cornwallis. General Washington pointed to 
General Lincoln, for directions. That general con- 
ducted the British army to a large field, just beyond 
our lines, but within our view. There was the trial 
for the dogged, obstinate Britons. Their platoon 
officers gave the word, ' Ground arms !' and they 
threw their muskets on the pile as if they wanted to 
break them, till General Lincoln put a stop to it. 
When they had finished laying down their arms, they 
were all escorted back to Yorktown, by our troops, 
to stay there till they could be removed to the in- 
terior of Maryland. The British troops stationed at 
36 



422 THE CAMP-FIRE 

Gloucester surrendered, about the same time, to the 
French general, De Choise." 

'•' Then, I suppose, you Americans marched into 
camp, to the tune of Yankee Doodle ; did n't you ?" 
enquired Dick. 

" Yes, we were in high spirits," replied Sam. " The 
people who had come from all parts of the neighbor- 
ing country, to see the surrender, cheered us loudly, 
I tell you, as soon as they heard that tune. It set 
them in such spirits that they could n't contain them- 
selves. They burst out in cheer after cheer. It was 
a great day for us." 

" How large was the army that surrendered ?" en- 
quired Rattler. 

"The troops, of every kind, that surrendered, 
amounted to at least seven thousand," replied Sam. 
" But there was so many sick and wounded, that it 
was found there was only about four thousand capable 
of bearing arms. Then there was fifteen hundred 
seamen, who shared the fate of their army. I think 
there was about a hundred and thirty cannon and 
mortars, brass and iron together, that became our 
property ; there were, also, about eight thousand good 
muskets." 

" What was the loss on both sides, during the 
siege ?" enquired Dick. 

" I hardly know what the loss of the British was," 
replied Sam. " The American troops lost twenty- 



NEAR CHARLESTON. 423 

seven killed and seventy-three wounded. The French 
lost fifty killed and one hundred and twenty-seven 
wounded. I think the loss of the British was more 
than five hundred, anyhow." 

" Well, they may congratulate themselves upon 
getting off" with so small a loss," said Dick ; " for, I 
suppose, if they had held out a little longer, they 
would have been cut up horribly." 

" No mistake about that," replied Sam. " I 'm 
sure I could n't give you an idea how things looked 
in Yorktown. I went all through it, soon after the 
siege. Some of the houses were very much like 
honeycomb. Furniture and books were scattered all 
over the ground, and the carcasses of men and horses 
could be seen, half covered with earth. In some 
places, the ground was thrown up into mounds, by 
the force of our shells. I did n't see any place a 
man could have stood in, where he could be safe. It 
was no wonder they surrendered." 

" It would have been best for them to have done it 
some time before ; it would have saved life," said Bill. 
" But Cornwallis thought only of his reputation. It 
was pride made him hold out." 

" That 's all ; there 's not much doubt about it," 
replied Sam. "But it's getting pretty late in the 
night. I 'm afraid we won't hear about the Cowpens^ 
if Bill don't soon get at the telling of it." 

" Plenty of time, if you 're not sleepy," returned 



424 THE CAMP-FIRE 

Bill. " The battle of the Cowpens won't detain you 
long. It was a short action, but a confounded hot 
one." 

"I'm anxious to hear about it," said Sam. "I 
know what General Morgan is. I know there must 
have been a hot action. Let me see. Tarleton was 
the British leader ; was n't he ?" 

" Yes ; Colonel Tarleton was their leader," was the 
reply. " He 's a sort of celebrated character down 
this way. But Morgan was too much for him." 

" Well, go on. Bill ; let 's hear about the Cowpens," 
said Sam. 

" In the first place, there 's no time to tell you 
about the manoeuvring we had just before the battle," 
began Bill, " any more than that we were posted be- 
yond the Wateree, to watch the movements of the 
enemy at Camden and Wynsborough. We took our 
position on the 25th of December, 1781. We were 
under the command of General Morgan, and num- 
bered, after we were joined by Pickens's militia, 
about seven hundred in all. There was our infantry, 
under Colonel Howard, numbering about three hun- 
dred ; about one hundred and seventy-five Virginia 
riflemen; and about seventy light dragoons, under 
the dashing Colonel W^illiam Washington. The 
North and South Carolina militia numbered about 
two hundred, under Colonel Pickens. Well, about 
the 15th of January, General Morgan got word from 



NEAR CHARLESTON. 425 

General Greene, putting him on his guard against a 
detachment he said was coming against us. Morgan 
thought it would be the best plan to keep out of a 
battle as long as possible, with such a small number 
of troops as he had, and he concluded to retreat from 
our position. On the 16th, our scouts brought us 
word that more than a thousand of the red-coats, 
under Colonel Tarleton, were coming in pursuit of us. 
They had seen them. So Morgan thought there was 
no time to lose, and we moved off in quick time ; and 
it was well we did; for we heard, afterwards, that 
Tarleton was on the same ground about three hours 
after we had left. We marched all night, over the 
roughest ground, and through marshes, till we came 
to a place where Morgan thought there was a good 
chance for making a stand. It was an open wood, 
called the Cowpens, near the Pacolet river. Before 
daylight, we were all drawn up in order of battle. 
The North and South Carolina militia, under Colonel 
Pickens, formed the first line, which was advanced a 
few hundred yards before the second, with orders to 
form on the right of the second, when forced to give 
way. Our light infantry, and the Virginia riflemen, 
composed the second line, which was commanded by 
Colonel Howard. The cavalry of Colonel Washing- 
ton, and about forty mounted militia, under Colonel 
M'Call, were some distance in the rear. I suppose 
you can understand this disposition ; can't you ?" 
36* 



426 • THE CAMP-FIRE 

"Oh, yes, I understand the line of battle," replied 
Sam. " I 've seen many a one drawn up in the same 
manner." 

" AVell, if you understand it, I'll go on," said Bill. 
"Just at daylight, we caught sight of the enemy, 
coming up as fast as they could. They did n't wait 
even to form their line. Tarleton .was so sure of vic- 
tory, that he gave the order to advance while they 
were forming. On they came, with a shout, and 
poured their fire into us ; but Pickens's militia were 
ordered to keep their fire till the enemy were within 
forty or fifty yards, and then throw it into them. 
They did their duty ; but though the infantry of the 
enemy suffered a considerable loss, they pressed on, 
and the militia had to give way. I forgot to tell you 
that the British had two field-pieces, and we had 
none ; that was another advantage, besides their 
numbers and discipline. Well, then our turn came, 
as the militia give way, and we stood our ground, 
and delivered our fire with terrible effect, till they 
came upon us too thick and fast, and we fell back to 
the cavalry. We were the only regular continental 
troops on the field. About the time we fell back, 
Colonel Ogilvie, of the British cavalry, charged on 
our right flank, with about forty men ; and he was 
cutting down the militia at a butchering rate, when 
Colonel Washington charged them with his dragoons, 
and beat them back in confusion. Just as that was 



NEAR CHARLESTON. 427 

done, we saw that so many of the British had fallen, 
especially officers, that they were too few to follow up 
their advantage, and that Tarleton's cavalry did n't 
move to their assistance ; and Colonel Howard rallied 
our whole force, and charged the foe with fixed bayo- 
nets. You never saw a set of men more astonished. 
They thought they had defeated us. The militia 
rallied about the same time, and charged on them. 
The advance fell back, and that started the whole of 
them. Nearly three hundred horse, that had not 
been engaged, fled through the woods, in confusion. 
The cannon was soon secured by our troops, after 
killing and wounding almost all that had been de- 
tached to manage them. Their infantry was thrown 
into confusion, as we pressed on with the bayonet; 
and Colonel Howard called out to them to lay down 
their arms, and they should have quarter. I guess 
about five hundred of their splendidly-equipped in- 
fantry laid down their arms to our militia and our 
continentals together. Colonel Washington pursued 
their cavalry for several miles ; but the best part of 
them escaped. I heard, since, that Tarleton received 
a cut on the hand, from Washington, so near was he 
on to him ; but he escaped. The only infantry that 
got off, was a body left to guard the baggage. They 
destroyed part of the baggage that they couldn't 
carry off", and away they went, on the spare horses 
and in the wagons. They all escaped." 



428 THE CAMP-FIRE 

" Ho, ho, ho !" laughed Sam. " That was a victory. 
How many did you lose, and how many did they 
lose ? Tell us all the particulars." 

" We only had twelve killed and sixty wounded," 
replied Bill. " Think of that. They had ten com- 
missioned officers and a hundred rank and file, killed, 
and two hundred wounded. Twenty-nine commis- 
sioned officers, and more than five hundred privates, 
fell into our hands as prisoners. I felt pretty savage 
for awhile, because the Colonel would n't let us kill 
some of the red-coats we took. They were about as 
big a set of rascals as ever breathed. If we had been 
defeated, they would have cut us all off" without 
mercy. But I got over my feelings, when I got a 
little cooler. I do n't believe a man was killed after 
he had surrendered. The two pieces of cannon we 
captured, had seen some strange travels. They had 
been taken from the British, at Saratoga, and then 
retaken by them, at Camden, and now recovered by 
us again. There were two standards, eight hundred 
muskets, thirty-five baggage-wagons, and a hundred 
dragoon horses, taken." 

" That was as glorious a victory as was ever gained 
by any troops," remarked Sam. "Only think of 
about half as many militia as there were regular 
British troops, not only defeating them, but killing or 
capturing almost the whole force ! It was really 
great." 



NEAR CHARLESTON. 429 

"You may well say that," returned Dick; "but 
the best of it was, that it happened just at the time 
when our troops and friends were in the lowest 
spirits. That made it seem more glorious ; and Con- 
gress voted a gold medal to General Morgan, and 
silver ones to Howard and Washington." 

" Yes ; and a sword to Pickens," added Bill. " The 
militia done their duty that day, and Pickens de- 
served something handsome." 

" Well, I '11 have to get you fellows to tell me more 
about the Southern campaign when you get time," 
said Sam. "But I'll go to my quarters, now." 

" I '11 see you again, to-morrow, Sam," said Dick. 
'' Good-night." 

After bidding their visitor good-night, the men 
arranged the fire, and prepared themselves for repose, 
with the exception of Dick, who was left on duty as 
sentinel. There we will leave him to muse on the 
comrades he had lost during the war ; the memory of 
them having been awakened by the narrative of Sam 
Barton. 



0^: 



THE OFFICERS' CAROUSAL. 

The Wear was ended in all but the name. A treaty 
of peace had not yet, however, been concluded be- 
tween the government of Great Britain and her re- 
bellious — because liberty-loving — child. The greater 
part of the army of Washington proceeded north- 
ward, soon after the capture of Cornwallis ; and, after 
a greaLmany movements from place to place, we find 
them, on 'the 31st of ^August, 1783, encamped at Ver- 
planck's Point, qA th6 Hudson River, opposite Stony 
Point. The troops were improving greatly in disci- 
pline and appearance, under the able management of 
the commander-in-chief, and all were in the best 
spirits. 

It was a lovely moonlight night — such as Septem- 
ber, in i& early stage, alone can furnisl^. The white 
tents of the encampment, arranged in parallel lines, 
presented a singular sight to the distant spectator, 
while the lonely sentinels, removed from their com- 
panions, could not but enjoy the cool air, and the 
beauty of the night. Some of the tent-doors were 

(430) 



THE officers' CAROUSAL. 431 

pushed aside, to admit the light of the sweet lamp of 
heaven, to serve in the place of dimmer, yet more 
glaring, luminaries. From these, the hum of conver- 
sation or the voice of song issued upon the night. 
To one of them we turn our attention, and record 
what is said and done. Three ofiicers are seated upon 
their camp-stools, at a common-looking table, passing 
the time in the joviality inspired by the rosy liquid 
they imbibe from their well-filled glasses. Crackers 
and cheese added their comforting influence to the 
carousal, serving to make the fare more substantial. 
The accoutrements of the three were thrown upon 
the floor ; alongside of the table, were a pitcher of 
water and a bottle of champagne, waiting till its pre- 
decessor upon the table should be emptied. One of 
the officers was evidently older than the other two, 
and had seen harder service, — judging from his ap- 
pearance. The other two were in the full bloom of 
manhood. 

"Now, Merton, tell us one of your stories," said 
the youngest of the ofiicers, to the eldest. " We are 
just in the humor for it." 

" I suppose I have told you about Charlie Morgan ; 
have n't I?" 

" Never heard you," was the reply. 

" Well, then, I '11 tell you, now, all I know about 
Charlie." 

Here the speaker, as is customary among story- 



432 THE officers' carousal. 

tellers, about to begin, took a drink, assumed an 
easy posture, and commenced : — 

Charlie Morgan, the son of a respectable farmer in 
Jersey, one day took it into his wise head to " list." 

" Mother," said he, " I want to 'list in the army." 

" Lord o' marcy !" exclaimed the old woman, put- 
ting up her hands, and, in her astonishment, dropping 
her stocking, (to the great delight of a sly kitten, 
who immediately seized upon it,) "what? do you 
want to be a soger ?" 

" Yes, I do," answered Charlie. 

"And go away and leave your poor mother, and 
your old daddy ?" 

" Why, mother, it is for the good of you both, that 
I want to go. I shall earn a heap of money." 

Here he " put the case " in the most tempting man- 
ner to the old lady 5 who, when she had in some 
measure recovered from her astonishment, promised 
to speak to her "old man," and to persuade him 
into giving his consent to Charlie's wishes. Her son 
put on his hat, and stepped to the cottage door. 

" But, my boy," said his mother, " there 's Jenny, 
— what '11 she say ?" 

Now, Charlie Morgan, who was as fine-looking a 
specimen of a rustic as ever walked the ground, with 
black eyes, under a quantity of curling brown hair, 
a tall, stalwart figure, and erect walk, had found 
favor in the sight of Jenny Commel, a pretty, blue- 



THE officers' CAROUSAL. 433 

eyed damsel of eighteen, the daughter of his next- 
door neighbor ; and his sudden determination to enlist 
was the result of an attack of jealousy. 

" Never you mind, mother," said he, in reply to 
her last question, " I '11 settle matters with Jenny." 

Whereupon, he walked into the garden, out of the 
gate, up the gravel walk of the next yard, and finally 
stood still, opposite Miss Jenny, who was industri- 
ously spinning, at her door. 

"Good afternoon. Miss Commel," said Charlie, 
stiffly. " I did not expect to find you at home ; I 
thought you would certainly be out taking a pleasant 
walk with George Cobert, the dunce." 

" George Cobert 's no dunce !" answered Jenny, 
firing up; "he's a brave man, and a good soldier; 
not a man to stay at home, working on a farm, when 
his country 's sufiering !" 

" The deuce !" thought Charlie. " I 'm in a fair 
way of ' biting off my nose, to spite my face.' Jenny 
likes this soldiering." 

" Besides," continued Jenny, " you was n't very far 
wrong in your guess ; he '11 be here directly, to take 
me to ride." 

" The devil !" exclaimed Charlie ; who straightway 
put on his hat, strode out of the garden, and enlisted 
that very evening, and set out for the army, without 
so much as informing Jenny of his intentions, or 
bidding her good-bye. He joined the Jersey brigade, 
37 2 c 



434 THE office'rs' carousal. 

and proving a good soldier, attracted the attention of 
General Lafayette. That officer, in the course of 
movements on the James River, being anxious to 
procure exact information as to the force under Corn- 
wallis, proposed to Charlie Morgan, and to George 
Cobert, that one of them should enter the British 
camp, in the character of a deserter, in order to spy 
out their plans. Charlie undertook the perilous en- 
terprise ; merely stipulating that, if he was detected 
and hanged as a spy, General Lafayette would cause 
it to be inserted in the Jersey newspapers, that he 
had acted under the orders, and according to the com- 
mands, of that officer. 

Escaping the dangers of the journey, the pretended 
deserter succeeded in passing the British lines, and 
was conducted into the presence of Cornwallis. That 
general, seated in his tent, began to question Charlie. 

" My good fellow," said he, " why did you desert 
the American army ?" 

" Oh, your lordship," replied Charlie, " when I first 
entered the American army, at the beginning of the 
war, I was put under George Washington's command, 
and I wjis satisfied to serve under him ; but, now that 
they have gone and put me and the rest under the 
command of the Frenchman, Mister Lafayette, there, 
I did not like it at all ; and that 's why I deserted." 

" Then I suppose you want to enter this army, and 
serve us, and fight for our cause ?" asked Cornwallis. 



THE officers' CAROUSAL. 435 

"Yes, if it please your lordship, I should like it 
exceedingly," answered Charlie. 

"Very well; I will receive you," replied Corn- 
wallis ; and Charlie was accordingly received without 
suspicion. He was punctual and exact in discharging 
his duties as a British soldier, and meantime very 
carefully observed and treasured up in his remem- 
brance all that passed around him. Nothing was 
suffered to escape his quick observation. One day, 
while he was on duty with his comrades, the British 
soldiers, Lord Cornwallis, who was in earnest conver- 
sation with some of his officers, called to Charlie, and 
when he approached, asked him, 

" How long, my good fellow, do you think it will 
take Lafayette to cross the James River ?" 

" Three hours, your lordship," was the quick reply. 

" Three hours !" ejaculated Cornwallis ; " are you 
sure ? I should have supposed that it would have 
required at least three days." 

" Oh ! bless your soul, no ! your lordship," answered 
Charlie. " The General, there, has so many boats ; 
each boat will carry so many men ; and if your lord- 
ship will merely take the trouble and time to calculate 
all that, you will come to the conclusion that he can 
cross in three hours, instead of three days, your lord- 
ship." 

At the conclusion of this speech of Charlie's, Lord 
Cornwallis turned to his officers, and, in the hearing 



436 THE officers' carousal. 

of the young American, said, " Our scheme will not 
answer at all, then." 

Charlie Morgan now resolved to abandon his new 
friends ; and, in order to escape, he determined to 
ply his companions with liquor, until they should be 
in high spirits, from the effects of the grog. 

" What will you take to drink ?" said he to some 
of them, one day. 

" Oh, we '11 go and ' grog,' " answered they. 

" Well, come along," said Charlie ; who accordingly 
gave them all, four in number, as much as they could 
drink; and when he had succeeded in somewhat 
clouding their intellectual faculties, and lessening 
their reasoning powers, he began to complain of the 
wants of the British troops, and to paint in glowing 
colors the luxuries enjoyed by the American army ; 
extolling the kindness of the officers, the privileges 
granted to the soldiers, and, above all, tickling the 
appetites of his comrades, by a glowing description 
of the abundant and excellent provisions; and, in 
conclusion, he proposed to them to desert. They 
agreed to accompany him, and left it to him to 
manage the sentinels. This, Morgan agreed to do. 
When he reached the first sentinel, he offered him, 
in an apparently friendly manner, a draught of rum 
from his canteen. 

"Here, take a drink," said Charlie, offering him 
the canteen. 



THE officers' CAROUSAL. 437 

" Thank you ; that's just what I was wishing for/' 
replied the man, taking the canteen from Morgan's 
hand ; but while he was drinking, Charlie seized his 
arms, and then proposed to him to desert with him 
and his companions ; which proposition the man was 
obliged to accept, from necessity. Arrived at the 
next sentinel's post, Charlie served him in the same 
way ; and he, too, fell into the snare, and accepted 
his proposals. The third sentinel shared the same 
fate ; and when Charlie arrived at the American 
camp, his ' suite ' consisted of seven British deserters ! 
On his presenting himself before Lafayette, to whom 
he was immediately conducted, the General exclaimed, 

" Well, my good friend, Charlie Morgan ! have you 
got back ?" 

" Oh, yes, here I am at last, please your excellency, 
and I have brought seven more with me." 

" Ah, indeed," said Lafayette ; " where are they ?" 

" Here, your excellency," replied Charlie ; " if you 
will just step out to the front of your tent, I '11 show 
them to you." 

" The General, accordingly, on leaving the tent, 
was shown the seven British deserters, who composed 
Charlie's retinue. General Lafayette offered Charlie 
money. " No, I thank your excellency," replied he ; 
sturdily declining any pecuniary recompense for his 
important services ; merely requesting to be allowed 
to resume his position in his company. 
37=^ 



438 THE officers' carousal. 

" But, my good fellow," said Lafayette, " would you 
not like to be raised to the rank of corporal ?" 

" No, I thank your excellency ; I am content to be 
what I am in the American army — a common sol- 
dier." 

" Perhaps the rank of sergeant may have some 
attractions for you, then ?" persisted the General. 

" No, your excellency," was the reply ; " I will not 
have any promotion. I have abilities and talents as 
a common soldier, and I have as such a good charac- 
ter : should I be promoted, my abilities may not 
answer to my rank ; and then, you know, I may lose 
my former character. There is, however," continued 
Charlie, " one request which I would make, of your 
excellency J and that is, that my fellow deserters, 
here," pointing to the British soldiers, "may have 
shoes, stockings, and under garments, and jackets, 
provided for them, as well as for myself" 

This request was straightway granted; and the 
General gave orders that all the wants of the de- 
serters, as well as Charlie's, should be attended to, 
and supplied. 

Charlie Morgan served a long time in the army ; 
but after this first exploit, married the pretty Jenny 
Commel, with great rejoicing. That was a merry 
wedding. I danced at it ; and Jenny makes Charlie 
a good wife. 

Here the narrator ceased. 



THE officers' CAROUSAL. 439 

" Now it 's your turn," said the second officer, ad- 
dressing the third, "to contribute to our entertain- 
ment. Will you favour us with some story ?" 

"Willingly," replied Wethering, the officer thus 
addressed. " I am sensible that I am about to repeat 
a thrice-told tale ; but there is so much appearance 
of romantic gallantry in Colonel Barton's exploit, that 
I trust I shall be pardoned for making still another 
effiDrt to keep it in view of all who delight to give to 
patriotic enterprise the applause which is its due. 
Sometime in July, 1777, Lieutenant-Colonel Barton, 
having received information that Major-General Pres- 
cottj who commanded the British and foreign troops, 
on Rhode Island, had established his head-quarters 
at a country house, at some distance from the main 
body of his army, resolved on the attempt to bring 
him off as his prisoner. To accomplish his purpose, 
thirty-eight men were selected from the line ; who, 
being embarked in five boats, set out on the expedi- 
tion. The task they had to perform was difficult and 
dangerous. The British posts on , the island were 
many and strong, and reported to be ever on the 
alert ; while a considerable naval armament protected 
it, on every side, from invasion. The ships and 
guard-boats being passed in the dead of the night, 
with muffled oars, and no discovery made, Lieutenant- 
Colonel Barton landed his party; and having first 
secured the sentinel, entered the General's apartment, 



440 THE officers' carousal. 

and took him from his bed. His aid-de-camp made a 
desperate attempt to escape, by leaping from a win- 
dow ; but he was pursued, and speedily secured, also. 
Expedition was not only necessary, but essential for 
safety. A large body of dragoons lay in the neigh- 
borhood; and signal-rockets, discharged in the air 
from different quarters, showed that a general alarm 
had already spread. Every comfort was afforded the 
prisoners, that circumstances would allow ; and Lieu- 
tenant-Colonel Barton had, at early dawn, the good 
fortune to land them in safety, after a passage of ten 
miles, at the spot, within the American lines, from 
which he had set out. 

"I remember, many years since, to have heard a 
highly-respectable clergyman say, that, in the year 
1746, he resided on the postrroad between CuUodeu 
and Aberdeen ; and that, in the evening of the day 
on which the battle was fought, on which the fate of 
the empire depended, he had received into his house 
an English officer, from the South, hastening to join 
the Duke of Cumberland's army. During the night, 
the aid-de-camp, carrying the news of victory to Lon- 
don, demanded hospitality also ; and fully relating 
the extent of the triumph over the forces of the Pre- 
tender, the Englishman exclaimed, ' Would to Heaven 
I had that formidable rebel, Gordon of Glenbucket, 
as my prisoner ! I would fasten him up in a cage, 
and carry him through England, as a show ; where 



THE officers' CAROUSAL. 441 

his terrific name has made such an impression, that 
there is not a clown throughout the country, who 
does not believe that he eats one child, at least, for 
his morning's breakfast ! I should speedily make a 
most ample fortune.' I was present when a particular 
friend of my own, sometime after Colonel Barton's 
successful expedition, addressing him with a very 
serious air, said, ^ I wish, my dear Barton, that I had 
you caged, that I might show you as the hero who 
made prisoner the renowned and formidable British 
general, Prescott. I would ask no better income than 
the cash that would be received from the exhibition.' 
The Colonel appeared delighted at the thought ; and 
I seriously believe, if a cage had been in preparation, 
he would have cheerfully stepped into it, for the plea- 
sure of enjoying the wonder and astonishment that 
would have been displayed, when the gaping specta- 
tors discovered that he was hut a man."" 

The third officer, a young man named Wallace, 
was then called upon for a story, and gave the fol- 
lowing : — 

"At a convivial meeting, (at which the healths of 
the captors of Andre had been drunk, and a toast 
proposed to the memory of Fulmer, Cory and Perkins, 
who achieved the capture of Joseph Bettys, a noto- 
rious traitor and spy,) the venerable Colonel Ball, 
who presided, made the statement which follows : — 
* During the war of the Revolution, I was an officer 



442 THE officers' carousal. 

in a New York line, in the regiment commanded by 
Colonel Wynkoop. Being acquainted with Bettys, 
who was a citizen of Ballston, and knowing him to 
be bold, athletic, and intelligent in an uncommon de- 
gree, I was desirous of obtaining his services for my 
country, and succeeded in enlisting him as a sergeant. 
He was afterwards reduced to the ranks, on account 
of some insolence to an officer, who he said had abused 
him without a cause. Knowing his irritable and de- 
termined spirit, and unwilling to lose him, I procured 
him the rank of sergeant, in the fleet commanded 
by General Arnold, (afterwards a traitor,) on Lake 
Champlain, in '76. Bettys was in that desperate 
fight, which took place in the latter part of the cam- 
paign, between the British and American fleets on 
that lake ; and being a skilful seaman, was of signal 
service during the battle. He fought until every 
commissioned officer on board his vessel was killed or 
wounded, and then assumed the command himself, 
and fought with such reckless courage, that General 
Waterbury, who was second in command under Ar- 
nold, perceiving that the vessel was likely to sink, 
was obliged to order Bettys, and the remainder of his 
crew, on board his own vessel ; and having noticed 
his extraordinary bravery and conduct, he stationed 
him on the quarter-deck, by his side, and gave orders 
through him ; until the vessels becoming altogether 
crippled, the men mostly killed, himself wounded, 



THE officers' CAROUSAL. 443 

and only three officers left, the colors were struck to 
the enemy. General Waterbury afterwards told my 
father, that he never saw a man behave with such 
deliberate desperation as Bettys. And the shrewd- 
ness of his management showed that his conduct was 
not inferior to his courage. After the action, Bettys 
went to Canada, — turned traitor to his country, — re- 
ceived an ensign's commission in the British army, — 
became a spy,— and proved himself a most dangerous 
and subtle enemy. He was at length arrested, tried, 
and condemned to be hung at West Point. But the 
entreaties of his aged parents, and the solicitations 
of influential wliigs, induced General Washington to 
pardon him, on promise of amendment. But it was 
in vain. The generosity of the act only added rancor 
to his hatred ; and the whigs of that section of the 
country, especially of Ballston, had deep occasion to 
remember the traitor, and to regret the unfortunate 
lenity they had caused to be shown him'. He re- 
cruited soldiers for the King, in the very heart of the 
country. He captured and carried off the most effi- 
cient and zealous patrols, and subjected them to the 
greatest suffering; and those against whom he had 
particular malice, lost their dwellings by fire, or lives 
by murder; and all this, while the British com- 
mander kept him in employ, as a faithful and most 
successful messenger, and a cunning and intelligent 
spy. No fatigue wearied his resolution, no distance 



444 THE officers' carousal. 

was an obstacle to his purpose, and no danger ap- 
palled his courage. No one felt secure. Sometimes, 
in the darkness of the night, he came by stealth upon 
us ; and sometimes, in the middle of the noonday, he 
was prowling about, as if unconscious of danger. He 
boldly proclaimed himself a desperado — that he 
carried his life in his hand — that he was as careless 
of it as he should be of that of others, should they 
undertake to catch him — that his liberty was guarded 
by his life ; and whoever should undertake to deprive 
him of it, must expect to mingle their blood with his. 
And it was well understood, that what Bettys said, 
Bettys meant ; and as well ascertained, that when he 
came among us, to perpetrate his mischief, he gene- 
rally brought with him a band of refugees, and con- 
cealed them in the neighborhood, to assist him to 
accomplish his purposes. Still, there were many who 
resolved on his apprehension, be the danger what it 
might ; and many ineffectual attempts were made for 
that purpose. But he eluded all their vigilance, till 
sometime in the winter of '81-82, when a suspicious 
stranger was observed in the neighborhood, in snow- 
shoes, and well armed. Cory and Fulmer, on inform- 
ation from Perkins, immediately armed themselves, 
and, with the latter, proceeded in pursuit. They 
traced him, by a circuitous track, to the house of a 
tory, and then, by a sudden effort, bursting open the 
door, rushed upon him and seized him, before he had 



THE officers' CAROUSAL. 445 

an opportunity of effecting any resistance. He was 
at his meal, with his pistols lying on the table, and 
his rifle resting on his arm ; he made an attempt to 
discharge the latter ; but not having taken the pre- 
caution to undo the deerskin cover that was over the 
lock, did not succeed. He was then pinioned so 
closely, that to resist was useless, and to escape im- 
possible. And the notorious Bettys, cheated of all 
his threats, and foiled in his most particular resolu- 
tion, was obliged to yield himself a tame and quiet 
prisoner to the daring of Fulmer, Cory and Perkins. 
He asked leave to smoke ; which being granted, he 
took out his tobacco, and, with something else, when 
unobserved as he hoped, he threw it into the fire. 
Cory, however, saw it, and immediately snatched it 
out with a handful of coals. It was a small leaden 
box, about an eighth of an inch in thickness, and 
contained a paper in cipher, which they could not 
read ; but it was afterwards discovered to be a des- 
patch to the British commander at New York, and 
also an order for thirty pounds sterling, on the Mayor 
of New York, should the despatch be safely delivered. 
Bettys begged leave to burn it, but was refused ; he 
offered them a hundred guineas if he might be al- 
lowed to do it ; but they steadily refused. He then 
said, ' I am a dead man,' but continued to entreat 
them to allow him to escape. He made the most 
liberal offers — a part of which he had present means 
38 



446 THE officers' carousal. 

to make good; but they refused to listen to him. 
He was then taken to Albany, tried, convicted, and 
executed as a spy and traitor to his country ; and the 
only reward these daring men ever received for their 
hazardous achievement, was the rifle and pistols of 
Bettys ! The conduct of the captors of Andre was 
noble; but that of the captors of Bettys was both 
noble and heroic. Andre was a gentleman, and with- 
out the means of defence. Bettys was fully armed, 
and known to be a desperado. The capture of the 
former was by accident ; that of the latter, by enter- 
prise and design. That of the former, without dan- 
ger ; that of the latter, at the imminent peril of life. 
Andre was a more important, but, perhaps, not a 
more dangerous man than Bettys. Both tempted 
their captors with all-seducing gold, and both were 
foiled. And Paulding, Williams, and Van "Wart, 
though venerated in the highest degree by me, as 
having exhibited a trait of character honorable to 
the reputation of their country, have not, in my 
estimation, claims to celebrity superior to those of 
Fulmer, Cory and Perkins.' The President having 
concluded, the toast was drunk, amidst the most 
thundering applause." 

" Such applause, in fact," continued Wallace, " as 
I deserve from you," (turning to his companions,) 
for my story." 

His companions gave him "three rounds," and 



THE officers' CAROUSAL. 447 

then, after discussing the merits of the respective 
captors of Andre and Bettys, and also finishing an- 
other bottle of champagne, the three ofiicers retired 
to their quarters. 



THE END, 



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